To Capture a Rogue
by LadyFoxy
Summary: Ian Howe thought that their marriage was only based on sex and designer wear. It meant so much more---at least to her. Post-NT, Ian/OC, Lemons
1. Meeting the Devil Himself Once Again

Hi guys! I have always adorned Sean Bean's character---Ian Howe in National Treasure. And I have always wanted to write a fanfiction about him, so here I am! Today is my 17th birthday and so I thought it was the perfect day to post it up.

**English, however, is my second language**, so I'm sorry I couldn't think of a better title, but here is Chapter one! And oh, I must add, this first part at the police station...etc, I'm not familiar with the bailing procedure at all...so please bear with me!

* * *

"Who is this?" Celia Vanderbilt barked at the phone angrily, "It's like, 1 freaking AM!"

"Ah, I did forget you always slept early. Anyways, hello to you as well, doll." Ian Howe chuckled.

"What the hell," She growled, "Is this a prank call?"

"Fortunately not, dear." He said, patiently. He had to convince her, and he knew he had to take the time.

"Who is this?" She demanded.

"Your long lost husband, Ian, remember?" He laughed.

"I don't know you." She lied, "I'm hanging up now." Her voice couldn't hide how furious she was. Ian clucked his tongue, he couldn't risk the chance of her hanging up the phone, the police only allowed him to make one phone call. "Look, Celia, please. I really need your help. Can you put our past away for right now?"

"'Our' past?" She shrieked, "How dare you say that? We don't have a past. I don't want to talk to you."

Ian Howe closed his eyes, rubbing his temple, "Celia, will you please listen to me."

"No," She scoffed, "You're a selfish bastard, Ian."

"I know and you have every right to be mad at me but hear me out, I need you to do something for me…" He sounded sincere.

"Fine. What?" She mumbled.

Ian sighed in relief, "Well, I got arrested, if you were watching the news."

"Who would be watching the news at one thirty in the morning?" Celia growled, "And I personally prefer you staying behind the bars, Ian."

"Now, now." He cooed gently, "You are my spouse registered on my data, so the police station is expecting you to come give me a visit." That was obviously a lie, actually anyone could come bail him out.

"A visit?" Celia laughed sarcastically, "What do you want, flowers? And a 'congratulations, you're in jail' card?"

He licked his lips nervously, "That would be nice, but you know what would be better?"

"Hmm?" She lay down back on bed, closing her eyes, not wanting to pay attention to him.

"A million dollars in cash."

"What?" She sat up, her eyes fluttering open in shock, "A million dollars? Just to bail you out?"

"Yes. That's correct."

"I don't have that much money." She yawned, "And I need to sleep now."

"Celia, please." He was actually pleading her. _This was something new._

"Where are you anyway?" She asked, rubbing her eyes.

"New York."

She was silent for a few seconds but her dramatic sigh ended it, "Fine, I'll be there soon."

He sunk back onto the chair in relief.

* * *

It took Celia visits to four different banks to withdraw the full amount of cash Ian Howe asked for and almost two hours to drive to New York. And it took four cans of Red Bull for her to stay awake.

Stomping into the police station with her purse hanging loosely on her shoulder and a silver briefcase in her hand, completely exhausted, she smacked her hand down at the counter. "I' m here to see Mr. Howe."

"And you are…?" The female officer at the front desk asked without looking up.

"Um, Celia Clementine…" She rolled her eyes, "I mean, Celia Howe."

"Mr. Howe's sister?" She asked.

Celia clicked her tongue annoyingly, "Er, I'm Mrs. Howe, as in his _spouse_."

The officer looked up and eyed her interestedly and asked her to sign in. Celia signed her name on the sheet hastily and a guard guided her to the room where Ian was kept.

Ian smirked when he saw his young 'wife' standing on the other side of the bars, looking very grim.

"Open up room 4!" The guard yelled. The metal bars automatically opened up and the guard walked in and unlocked Ian Howe's handcuffs, "Half an hour only, Mrs. Howe." He addressed to Celia.

"It's not going to take that long anyway." She scoffed as she pulled a metal stool next to Ian's seat. The guard nodded and exited the room and left the two of them alone.

Celia settled the briefcase down on the floor, sat down on the stool and folded her arms across her chest, arching an eyebrow, "So? I brought the money, what else would you like?"

"No flowers or even a card?" He teased, sitting down himself.

Celia crossed her legs and rolled her eyes, "Ha, ha. Oh how clumsy of me. I forgot!"

"I appreciate your humor, my dear." Ian smiled and reached out his hand, wanting to touch hers. She quickly pulled herself away, "Don't touch me."

"What's wrong, do you think we need to rekindle our…'old' flame?" He smirked, "After all, I do remember that my current wife is…you."

"Oh, speaking of that, my husband," She exclaimed dramatically, pulling out a sheet of papers from her purse, "These are the divorce papers, you just need to sign…here." She flipped to the last page and pointed at the blank line.

Ian Howe pretended to take interest in the papers and took the papers from her hand, "Let me take a look." The next second, a loud sound of the tearing of paper echoed in the cell.

"What the hell did you do that for?" She snapped, staring down at the floor that was covered with the remaining pieces of the divorce papers.

"Hey, is everything alright?" The guard yelled from the corner.

"Yes!" Ian answered, smirking at Celia, "I don't want a divorce."

"What?" She snapped, her hands clenching into fists, God how much she wanted to punch his evil, handsome face. "You made it pretty clear when you left---"

"I did what I had to do, Celia." He said calmly, leaning his back into the chair, his green eyes flickering. She held up an index finger, "Firstly, I told you I don't want anything to do with you after you began your whole illegal actions---"

"I was simply following my dreams, dear," He explained in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

She scowled, standing up and kicked the briefcase on the floor, "There's the money, go bail yourself out or whatever. I'm not familiar at all with the process because I'm _not_ a criminal."

"Well, I do need someone to take me home." He shook his head.

"What are you hinting?" She sneered.

He shrugged casually, "Well, I do need a ride."

"Maybe one of your 'thugs' are waiting to pick you up outside." Celia suggested, turning to leave the room, "Bye, Ian."

He reached out and grabbed her thin wrist, "Celia, I need a ride."

"And why would I do that?" She asked, raising an eyebrow, annoyance very visual.

"Because you're my wife." He grinned mischievously.

"Stop mentioning that." She stared down at her own shoes.

Ian used his index finger to tilt up Celia's chin so she could look at him, "Why, do you feel guilty?"

"Guilty for what?" She slapped his hand away from her. The touch of his made her skin warm. _Damn it._

"For not doing what a wife should do," He folded his arms across his chest, smiling smugly. She glared at him, her eyes shooting daggers.

"I don't recall you being a good husband either, Ian." She muttered bitterly.

"Well, let me make it up for you then." He sounded eerily sincere.

* * *

Celia pursed her lips and looked at him suspiciously. It took her a minute or so to make up her mind. "Fine, I'll give you a ride. Just warning you, this doesn't mean you can come barging back into my life."

His smile widened, "Aye, my lady." She turned on her heels, ever so gracefully, her messy ponytail swishing in the air, "Let's go and bail you out first."

The procedure was done successfully and the two of them were out on the broad daylights of New York city. They walked to Celia's lime green Volkswagon.

"Where's the BMW I got you?" Ian asked, as she opened the car door.

"I sold it." She lied, carelessly.

Ian Howe put his hand over his heart, "Oh, Celia, that breaks my heart. She was such a beauty."

Celia rolled her eyes for the thousandth time and sighed impatiently, "Get in."

He did as he was told and buckled his seat belt, kicking the squished Red Bull cans at his feet, "Long night huh, you must be exhausted."

She slammed the car door shut and started the engine, "Yes, very. As if you haven't noticed, I wasn't able to get a good night sleep." Pulling a pack of cigarettes out from her purse, she lit it. Ian Howe took notice that her hands were rather shaky, "Didn't know you smoked." He said, looking directly at her.

"Well, you do now." She exhaled the smoke deeply and turned to the window. Avoiding eye contact with him. She was smoking thin, Vogue cigarettes. He smiled.

Taking the cigarette from her fingers, he pinched it and tossed it out the window and interrupted before she could say anything, "Don't want to ruin your pearly white teeth, do you?" She rolled up the window and pouted, her eyes staring directly to the front, not paying attention to him anymore. The two of them didn't talk. It was around four in the morning when Celia's mind started to doze off.

"You seem a little tired." Ian suggested. "Why don't I drive."

"No, thank you very much." She snapped, gripping onto the steering wheel.

Actually, she just wanted to go home and sleep. But no way she was going to risk it being around her…husband, current…convict?

"Celia, come on. Let's get a room somewhere. You do look like you need some rest." He spoke carefully, not wanting to anger her.

It didn't really seem like a bad idea…but to share a same room with…him?

"I don't know if that would be appropriate." She ran her fingers through her own hair.

He reached over to her and gave her shoulders a squeeze, "You see, my dear, you are very tense." His words came out in a rather sensual way.

She wiggled away from his hands, "Don't touch me, and don't make me repeat that again." He put both his hands into the air, as if surrendering, "As you wish."

They drove for another twenty four minutes until it started to rain. The sky was unbelievably dark and gloomy and it was 4 thirty-six and she felt crabby. Maybe Ian was right, they should stop and rest. Her. Not 'they'.

"You know what," She began, "Maybe you're right. We should stop by somewhere."

All he did was smirk, "Why not…there?" Celia's eyes followed where his index finger pointed---a chic drive-in bed and breakfast. At least it wasn't some cheap motel.

"Uh, that would actually be great." She nodded, honestly. Turning the car into its driveway, "It looks pretty decent. I can't wait for breakfast."

_And he couldn't wait for the bed._

* * *

**A/N: What do you guys think of it? I do hope you liked and likely leave a review! I am always welcome to criticism and compliments! :) **


	2. Checking In

**Author's Note:**

**I'm not giving up on this story. At least I enjoy writing it.**

* * *

Celia parked the car. "Oomph." She groaned as she reached to the backseat to pick up an Anya Hindmarch "I'm Not a Plastic Bag" environmental-friendly bag. His eyes couldn't help stare at the strip of her skin of her abdomen area which was exposed at her current position. A smile appeared on his face.

"Got it." She announced and tossed a small, girly umbrella it to him. He eyed her skeptically. "You want to get your fancy suit wet?" She poked him in the chest, getting out of the car and locking it. She shrieked at how cold it was: the rain was practically pouring from the dark sky. She ran into the lobby with Ian behind with an umbrella. A red and pink dotted umbrella.

"Hi," The old lady greeted from behind the counter, "Big rain, isn't it? A suite for two?"

"Uh, you don't happen to have any single rooms, do you?" Celia asked innocently, adjusting her wet blouse and noticed that it was transparent now. Her face burnt in embarrassment. She quickly wrapped her also-wet wool cardigan around her body.

The old lady giggled, "Unfortunately not, dear. How about Room B12? It has quite a pleasant view…when the weather gets better." She held up a dangling smiled politely, taking it from the old lady's wrinkly hand, "Lovely. Thank you so much."

_Staying at a bed and breakfast with her husband she hadn't seen in two and half years…how lovely. _

"Come on now, Ian." She stomped up the stairs, not bothering to look at him. He chuckled, winking at the old lady, "My wife, she hates it when it rains."

"Ah." The lady nodded, understandingly.

"I'm coming, dear." He sing-songed, following behind her steps.

* * *

Celia opened up the wood door to 'their' room and sighed, plopping down on the edge of the bed. It creaked and the room smelled very…like a hotel. A little old. The decorations and interior design of the room was simplistic modern. A queen sized bed, a nightstand, a desk and a wide window with curtains draped over it.

"I believe you are craving for a shower." Ian Howe suggested, tilting his chin up, "Or not. I personally think you look very seducing in that blouse of yours."

Furiously, she stood up and grabbed her bag and slammed the bathroom door shut. Ian laughed out loud to himself, hearing the shower water run.

Half an hour later, Celia came out of the shower, in clean clothes. Her hair was still wet and was bundled up with a towel on top of her head. She tossed her Anya Hindmarch bag to him and he caught it before it fell to the ground. _Apparently he was quite good at catching things._ He cocked an eyebrow. She sighed, "I brought clean clothes for you."

He broke into a wide grin, giving her arm a squeeze, "So you planned this all."

Celia scowled, "Don't flatter yourself. I just thought you might need it. If you want to go on the run or whatever." Ian couldn't help beaming at his young wife's words. She did care for him. _Even though she was trying her best not to._

He closed the bathroom door behind him and he heard Celia exhale deeply. So, she still couldn't resist his charms.

And Ian Howe liked that.

* * *

When he came out, he saw her curled up in a ball, lying under the sheets. "Celia?" He called softly. "Hmm?" Her voice was muffled due to the fact that half of her face was buried into the soft pillow. He crawled into bed with her. She immediately scooted a few inches away from him, "Don't even think about it."

"I'm not going to do anything." He said, the tenderness of his voice made her want to cry, "May I hold you?" He asked for her permission.

She shrugged, not answering him. Slowly, he put an arm around her waist and inhaled the scent of her hair. She smelled so good, so feminine…just like how he remembered. "Thank you, Celia." He whispered into her ear.

"For what?" Her voice almost cracked but he didn't notice.

He closed his eyes, "Everything." He meant it.

Celia chewed on her lower lip until it bled. Tears trickled down her cheeks inaudibly.

* * *

She had no Goddamned idea why she was crying. Or didn't know which:

Her husband who cruelly left her to pursue his collection of antiques in illegal ways was now causing chaos again in her life? Or because she couldn't resist his devilish charm that she had been trying to forget so hard?

She had given up her life at the age of 22 to naively 'marry' Ian Howe---whom she then believed was sophisticated and handsome, the perfect gentleman and he meant the world to her. How stupid of her. They married and had a huge, fancy wedding and he bought them a rather luxurious apartment penthouse he and her shared together. Well, that was until he left. At age 24, all she had nothing but an empty house. And even now, she didn't quite figure out why he left. During the last week before Ian left her, he and Celia would have endless arguments over his legally-questionable quests. Rumor has it that he had some other mistress in London, England---his hometown. It was no doubt that Ian Howe was a womanizer---a rich and handsome one too.

Soon, Celia's tears dried and she fastened asleep to Ian Howe's soft breathing next to her ear. Hours past and the rain had stopped. Celia's eyes fluttered open. Her head rested on something soft, but it wasn't the pillow, and whatever it was, it was rising up and down, it was breathing. She quickly sat up, shrieking, realizing she was resting against Ian Howe's chest. He smirked cockily and looked at her amusedly, "Good afternoon, doll." "What…why are we here? Why was I---"

"Why were you sleeping with me?" He smirked even deeper, "You came and bailed me out, remember?"

"Right." She rubbed her eyes, "And I couldn't care less."

He then noticed her swollen eyes. "Hey," He said, softly, stroking her cheek, "Were you crying?" She laughed as if what he just said was absurd and wrinkled her nose, "No, of course not."

"Why?" He asked, simply. He cupped her cheek, wanting her to look at him, "Tell me, Celia." She looked away, letting her hair dangle in front of her face, "I don't want you to think that I need you back. Because I don't." She mumbled, stubbornly.

"I know you don't," He took her in his arms. "Or else how would you survive these years without me?" She winced visibly, but still let him hold her. He placed his chin on top of her head, stroking her arm, playing with her hair. She smelled just like how he remembered: the ocean, French lavender and peaches. She was ever so sweet and feminine. "You're an independent woman, Celia." He stated boldly.

"Ian," Celia finally spoke, her voice rather weak.

"Hmm?" He asked, his eyes remaining closed.

She looked up to him with puppy dog eyes, biting her lower lip---a bad habit of hers, "I'm starving."

* * *

**A/N: That's it for now. I hope you guys liked it. If you do, feel free to review!**


	3. Inappropriate Disturbance

**Author's Notes: **

**I have writer's block. I haven't done any stories for like, two months. I feel terrible, but this is all I have right now. Reviews would be nice because I'd really like to know what people think about this story in particular.**

* * *

Ian Howe grinned, letting go of her and making his way to the phone, "I'll call the front desk for some room service." She nodded, lying back down on the bed, sighing.

"Hi, we'd like some breakfast service please, if that is possible." Ian asked. "Uh huh, yes, okay, thanks." And he put down the phone, pleased.

"So?" She arched an eyebrow, "Do we get food or not?"

"Ah, don't get impatient." He cooed, raising his index finger, "But I do understand you're starving." She pouted, pretending to take sudden interest in her coral pink nails. Her stomach gurgled. He smiled, pulling gently on a strand of her brown locks, "She said room service will be up in fifteen minutes." She nodded while frowning, pushing his fingers away.

Approximately fourteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door. "Room service!" The old lady called from outside. Celia motioned to get up from the bed but Ian stopped her, "I'll go get it." She nodded, appreciatively.

The smell of scrambled eggs, bacon and waffles filled up the room. The old lady pushed in a cart and Ian handed her twenty dollars for a tip. She beamed happily, "Oh, thank you, sir! And I see the lady is feeling better! You should open up the curtains, the view is just beautiful!" "No, it's alright---" The old lady insisted on pulling the drapes and revealing the view of outside. It sure indeed was pretty. The bed-and-breakfast was located just outside of New York City, tall buildings were in sight but mainly the huge garden in the backyard was what took people's breath away. Dozens of different flowers blossomed in the bushes and they were trimmed impeccably. It was like the perfect hideaway from all the noisiness and pressure of the city.

"Wow." Celia exclaimed, "This is like, probably the most beautiful scene I've seen in ages. It's wonderful." The old lady smiled even wider, "That's what everyone says."

"Well, the evenings on the beaches of Hawaii are also---" Celia quickly clapped her hand over her mouth, blushing at her memory. Hawaii sure was a beautiful island. Ian and her had held hands and took long strolls on the beach at night and…well, did something memorable. Ian had his back against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips. Of course he didn't forget their honeymoon at Hawaii, either.

She laughed awkwardly, "Well, thank you so much…erm…"

"Marge." The old lady smiled kindly, "Do enjoy your 'breakfast' and the scenery. Just push the trolley out when you're finished, someone with clean it up for you."

"Yes, yes." Celia bobbed her head up and down, "Thanks again, Marge."

Ian closed the door and brought the tray over to the bed and placed it on Celia's lap, "Here you go." "Thanks," She smiled weakly, her face still flushed red from what she remembered. She dug her spoon into a plastic cup of pudding and shoved it in her mouth. "Mmm." That caramel melted in her mouth and the sweetness…it was delicious.

Ian brought his tray over to the desk next to the window, sitting down on the chair. He cut his bacon and chewed: it was crisp and the pork was perfect.

"So," He started with a mouthful. Celia tore off the lid of the pudding carton and licked it, "Huh?"

He swallowed the bacon. "What about Hawaii?" He asked evilly.

Celia scowled, throwing the empty carton at him. He ducked successfully from her 'attack'.

"Calm down!" He laughed, "Or I might have to call the police and have you arrested for assaulting your own husband."

"Or I should call the police to arrest you, again!" She snapped, motioning to reach for the phone. He stopped laughing and spoke steadily, "Okay, I'll stop teasing."

Celia smirked triumphantly, sending some scrambled eggs into her mouth. The two of them didn't speak after that. Ian quietly collected his and her empty trays and pushed the cart out of their room. He returned to the room and washed his hands.

Celia sat on the bed, sitting in Indian-style, flipping through the latest issue of Vogue. The silence in the room matched the peaceful scene outside the window perfectly.

* * *

That was until loud, sexual moans came from the other side of the thin wall.

Celia's face blushed into a bright colored red and cleared her throat intentionally.

Ian smirked as he walked back to the bed, "You want to watch pay-per-view porn?" He then plopped down on the bed beside her. She scooted away from him until she was sitting on the edge of the bed and scoffed, "Please, I'm not like you. Plus, the television isn't even on."

"How do you know that I watch porn?" He was just _so_ in the mood of teasing her.

She shot him a death glare, "I don't, but I assume you do. You prick."

Heavy panting and dirty words were screamed out from next door. Celia's face remained red, her cheeks burning in embarrassment at highly tensioned awkwardness.

"It's quite delightful to listen to, no?" Ian tilted his head, resting it on his left arm. She rolled her eyes as she flipped angrily through her magazine, until she accidentally ripped a Clinique advertisement. "Ow," She gasped quietly, studying her fresh paper cut.

"Let me see it." He offered, reaching out his hand. While she was about to, the moans from next door turned into animalistic screams of a woman and man. This was way too over. X-rated, definitely.

* * *

"I can't stand this anymore," Celia groaned, hopping off the bed.

"Where are you going?" Ian asked lazily, remaining on the bed, his arms crossed in front of him. She grabbed her cardigan she had placed on the desk to dry off—which it was now and put it on, pulling on the sleeves angrily, "To tell them to keep it down."

Ian chuckled, as if she was telling a joke. She wouldn't possibly---

She was already out the door. The next moment, he heard her pounding her fists on the door of the room next door. The sounds stopped and Ian couldn't help but laugh out loud and shake his head.

Celia kept knocking on the door. The door of Room B11 swung open with a woman not older than herself wrapped around a red silk robe, her hair messy from 'wild' sex.

"What do you want?" The woman asked, leaning against the door, her voice sultry.

"I want you to keep it down with your…man!" Celia spat in disgust, "Some people are trying to rest, you know."

"Gee, lady." The woman yawned, "Don't make my job too hard, my customer paid me to be loud. It's not like I have a choice." The man in his late thirties came out of the room in his boxers and Celia winced at the sight. The age difference between the hooker and the man reminded her of Ian and herself. The man scratched his head, asking the hooker, "Dolly, what does she want?" "Oh, she just said---"

"My wife doesn't like to be disturbed while we do whatever you're doing." Ian interrupted, wrapping his arm around Celia's waist protectively, kissing her on top of the head. Celia opened her mouth to protest, but he quickly cut her off again, "So we just wanted to ask you kindly if the two of you could keep it down just a bit." He gave them a friendly smile and pulled his wife away, returning to their own room.

* * *

"What was that for?" Celia snapped at Ian as soon as he closed their hotel room door, "'Oh, my wife doesn't like to be disturbed while we do whatever you're doing?'" She mimicked him, making dramatic air-quotes, "What the hell! You are driving me insane. How can you even say that? That's humiliating! I didn't even have sex with you!"

"Well do you want to?" He asked, sounding husky.

"What is wrong with you?" She cried, shoving him in the chest, "Not every woman wants to sleep with you okay? You don't deserve to be a…human being! Why does everything you think of has to be sex?"

"I wasn't the first to think of Hawaii, now, was I?" He retorted, causing her to blush madly, her small hands clenching into fists.

"I, hate you." She gritted through her teeth. She hated how frivolous he was, she hated how every time she would blush whenever he teased her. She hated how he could be a gentleman and turn into a rogue the next second. She hated herself for _still_ loving him.

* * *

**A/N: I just have too much fun writing this story. Thanks for reading, guys!**


	4. Checking Out

"Come on now, you don't." He said in his most convincing voice, walking towards her, "You certainly didn't' seem to hate me the night before I left." He tilted his head and pretended to think, "As I recall, you were screaming for more--"

She slapped him straight across the face, leaving a bright red mark. He clutched his right cheek, rubbing it while his eyes never left hers.

"Don't you ever dare speak of _that_ night again." Celia spat, turning on her heels and went into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. She turned on the tabs of the sink and put down the toilet lid and squatted down. She buried her face into her hands and sobbed. She tried so much to forget that night.

* * *

"_Celia," Ian said as he opened the door to their penthouse. He felt not at all guilty for not telling her he was about to leave to Turkey the next morning. "In here!" She called from their bedroom, her voice had a hint of excitement within._

_He smiled, loosening his tie and walked into the dark bedroom. The lights were dimmed and candles flickered in the air. Celia perched on the edge of the bed, her hair perfectly curled, wearing only a silk corset and matching underwear. He inhaled sharply at the sight. He had never seen her ever so…seductive._

"_Wow," He exclaimed, placing his palm on top of a candle's flame before turning back to face her, "What is all this for?"_

_She shrugged shyly, he could see her face glowing in a tender shade of pink: she was blushing. "I just thought you might have had a rough day…and I want to make you happy." She smiled and batted her eyelashes unintentionally, "Do you like it?"_

"_Mmm." He strode over to her, his eyes lingering on every inch of her ivory skin, he sat down on the bed, his face dangerously close to hers. She could feel his hot breath tickling her skin. Oh, how much she wanted him to kiss her, wanted him to touch her._

"_I ought to say," He whispered into her ear and made her shudder, "You…are absolutely breath-taking."She was, indeed. The almost flat-chest Celia had managed to squeeze out some cleavage in that sexy little corset of hers…but they didn't need that soon._

…

"_Don't tell me you're up to no good again, Ian." She purred against his chest as he held her close, his arm around her waist. She felt his body tense and she quickly sat up, "You are stealing something again, aren't you? What is it this time, a freaking vase?"_

_But of course she didn't know that it was actually something so much better._

"_Of course not," He said smoothly, patting her back as she lay down back with him. He kissed her forehead as she pouted. "Nothing's going on, I promise."_

_She looked at him, almost eagerly, wanting to believe what he said. "Promise promise?"_

_He laughed at her innocent words but gave her a peck on the lips and a stern, "I promise."_

_She sighed, she rested her face against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, "I hate fighting with you. I'm sorry. I just…love you." Ian was a little taken aback by her words but still managed to collect himself, "I love you too." But he didn't mean it. Did he? _

_He had no idea._

"_You do?" She teased, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hardly ever said he loved her, but she definitely liked it when he did._

"_Do you want me to prove it to you?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow. She giggled as he tickled her bare hips, "And how are you going to do that?" "By doing…" His fingers trailed up her thighs, "This." _

_Celia's screams hardly stopped that night. Perhaps that was the way he planned to 'make it up' to her. _

* * *

"Celia, I'm sorry." He knocked on the door, "Come on, let me in."

"Go away." Her voice cracked as she yelled at the door stubbornly, her tears continually streaming down her eyes. "I'll come out when I'm ready."

* * *

"_I love you, Ian." She panted, snuggling next to him. He didn't answer. His mind was on the treasure he was going to discover and the money he would make off of it. Nor did he need to answer, she was already fastened asleep, breathing softly, lying next to him._

_He studied her face for awhile. As a wife, she was alright. Too bad she was a little too…fussy. Carefully, he pulled her arm that was on his waist away from himself and placed it gently on the blanket beside her. She moaned in her sleep, digging her face deeper into the pillow. He gathered his clothes and put them on. The next he did was blow out the candles, one by one. Tip-toeing, he walked over to her. He pushed her hair tenderly away from her face and placed a soft kiss on her cheek, "Goodbye, Celia."_

_And that was the last time Ian Howe had planned to see her again._

_That was until he was careless enough to get arrested._

* * *

Celia managed to get herself together, standing up weakly and washed her face. She grabbed her purse that was tossed on the counter and pulled out her MAC lip glass, applying a new coat of gloss. She threw it back in her bag and picked it up. Taking another deep breath, she turned the knob and opened the door.

Ian was standing right in front of her, his brows furrowed, looking worried, "Are you alright? I'm sorry."

She shot him a death glare, "Oh, so you are. We're leaving."

"What, now? We've just settled---"

"Stay if you please. I'm leaving. The sooner you stop bothering me, the better."

"Fine." He said, "Wait up."

Celia stomped to the door and he hurried behind her, not expecting she would spin around. Her eyes widened, because their lips were merely inches dangerously away from each other. He could see her upper lip quivering in a nervous fashion. His lips curved up into a smirk. _Oh, she couldn't resist._

Her hand reached up to touch him, her fingertips trailing the contours of his face. She leaned towards him, her lips almost over his…but she finally snapped back to her logical state of mind. She blinked a few times before she realized what she was doing. When she did, she scowled and shoved him in the chest, "Bastard."

"What did I do this time?" He asked, laughingly. He reached for her arm and pulled her towards himself, letting her crush into his chest, "I know what you wanted to do just a few seconds ago," He teased, whispering into her ear. Her hands were trying to break free from his grip, "Ah, careful you might break your wrists." He loosened his hands but before she could retaliate, he grabbed the back of her neck and planted a big, fat kiss on her freshly glossed lips. She wailed in frustration. She held up her hand, ready to slap him across the handsome face. Why the Hell did she actually enjoy that kiss? Damn him, damn him!

"Oh, you wouldn't." He tempted, looking at her hand then back to her.

"Oh, I would." She threatened. Instead of slapping him, she poked him once again in the chest and gave his left foot a huge stomp. Huffing angrily, she left the room. "Hey, Celia, these were Ferragamos!" He called behind her sarcastically. But they were.

"Who gives a rats ass?" She yelled back, rushing down the flight of stairs.

Ian Howe just chuckled and bent down, brushing off the dust from his shoe.

* * *

"I would like to check out now, please." Celia said rudely, slamming the key on the counter. Marge jumped a little, worried, "Oh dear, is there something wrong?"

Celia clicked her tongue impatiently, she felt bad for the old lady, but couldn't care less, "No, of course not. Your Bed and Breakfast is simply amazing. It's that stupid man that's driving me crazy. And did you know that you have a prostitute like, working next to our room?"

"Oh…" Marge shook her head wistfully, "That's Dolly, she's…my niece. I offered her to work here but she refused for several times. And Miss, mind I say, your husband seems like an awfully nice man, he---"

"Um, Marge, he's not my husband." Celia corrected her.

"But the both of you are wearing matching wedding rings and he addresses you as his wife." The old lady continued.

Darn it. Her ring should have been put away in her drawer, her bottom drawer…she had forgotten to take it off. But since Ian's back…and…

"Wait," Celia frowned, "He was wearing his ring?"

Marge nodded and looked behind Celia's shoulder, beaming, "Ah, see?"

Celia gritted her teeth when she heard Ian Howe's footsteps come up close behind her.

"See what? Did I miss anything?" Ian asked, casually draping an arm around Celia's shoulder, "Or are you having a girls talk? Should I go sit down and the sofa and wait?"

Celia scowled, digging her three-inched heel Manolo into his Ferragamo.

Ian kept smiling, his hand that was on her shoulder moved down to her waist and he pinched her gently. "Crap!" Celia cried, jumping away from him. He just smirked. So he remembered her ticklish spot. Damn him.

"Is there something wrong, darling?" Marge asked concernedly. Since she was behind the counter, she couldn't see the actions taking place on their side.

Celia wrapped her cardigan tightly around herself, "No, no. Now, Ian, check us out. I'm going to get the car started. Don't forget to tip Marge."

"Of course, darling." Ian nodded, smirking that she gave up the physical fight, "Oh, Celia, you know what?"

"What?" She spat.

"You said my name for the second time, I appreciate it." He chuckled, "Come here, you got something on your nose."

"What? No I don't." She brushed her nose consciously before she stepped forward towards him. Within a second, she was pressed against him and he gave her a peck on the lips. She pushed him away once again, "Argh! Stop doing that!" She shot Marge an embarrassed and awkward smile before she lunged out of the lobby.

Marge smiled warmly at Ian, "So, cash, debit or visa?"

"Cash." He winked, pulling out brand new fifty dollar bills from his pocket.

Oh yes, Ian Howe was _back_.

* * *

"That was humiliating." Celia snapped once Ian got into the car. He sighed and buckled his seatbelt, "How is it humiliating when a husband shows affection towards his wife?"

She snorted, "Please. Affection? Why the hell are you wearing your ring?"

"Well, I could ask you the same question." He smiled evilly, drumming his fingers on his thigh, "But I'm wearing it because we _are _married."

"You don't get to say that."

"But I've come back, haven't I? I'm going to make everything alright."

"Yeah, right. I'm just your ticket out of jail." She muttered bitterly.

She was right, but he felt offended. "That's only half true." He insisted.

Her head lowered, her hair covering her face and she shook her head sadly, "Whatever."

"Celia---" He was cut off by her giving him the finger.

* * *

**A/N: I really appreciate the reviews, thank you guys for your support. The next chapter will be the first steamy sex scene I have ever written, so stay tuned!**


	5. Make Up Sex is The Best of All

* * *

Author's Notes:

Hey guys, thanks so much for your reveiws! This is the first 'lemon' sex scene I've ever written, so please be nice!

* * *

Ian Howe rubbed his hands as Celia parked the car in their apartment's parking lot. He was excited. After all, he did quite miss his penthouse. Celia whipped her bag over her shoulder and stomped to the elevator. She was having a stomachache for no reason…

"I see you have kept the house well." Ian exclaimed, rather happily. Celia rolled her eyes and tossed the keys into a plate on the shelf next to the door, "Of course, I still live here---why wouldn't I clean it up?"

He smirked, "Why, you weren't keeping it clean so that if I came home one day, like today, and it would please me?"

"Please." She snorted, kicking off her heels carelessly and walking into the kitchen, quickly tying her hair up in a messy bun. She opened one of the drawers, pretending to be interested in what was in it.

"Celia," He sing-sang behind her ear, wrapping an arm around her waist, he could feel her slightly trembling, "It's good to be home."

She shut the drawer close and pulled his hand off her, which was wandering between her hips and bottom. She hastily brushed past him and entered the living room, her arms crossed, glaring at him. His eyes flickered, staring at the collar of her blouse, the first two buttons were unbuttoned and her chest raised and lowered as she was breathing angrily.

"Why all the fuss?" He asked, shrugging. "Saying it's good to be home is a compliment." "I take that as a sarcastic statement." She mumbled, pursing her lips.

Her lips…God he wanted to kiss her so bad. _Or do something more than that._

"Well, it's not." He smiled, "I truly mean it. How long have I been away? One year?"

"Two years, three months and seventeen days." She blurted out, angrily.

_So she had even kept track._

* * *

His hand cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. And when the next second she did, she was pinned against the wall and attacked by Ian Howe's kisses. Her eyes widened in surprise. She first struggled, trying to push him off her but he was too strong. Or the opposite: she was too weak. Physically and mentally: She couldn't…resist him.

She moaned into his mouth while he nibbled on her lower lip, his tongue probing hers. She felt her stomach **churn** in deep desire.

His kisses moved to her earlobe, "I assume you're…wet?" He whispered into her ear as his knee separated her legs. She groaned at his vulgar words, pulling his collar towards her and slammed him against her, "Stop making assumptions," she groaned as she slammed her lips against his, murmuring through kisses, "Just skip to the conclusions."

"Aren't you an impatient kitten," He growled as he tore her blouse open and the buttons scattered to the floor.

She first gasped then clicked her tongue, "And look who's talking. That was a Ralph Lauren---" He placed his lips over hers to keep her quiet. She moaned into his mouth and melted into his chest, he then let go of her, satisfied. "We'll just go buy another one."

She scowled, her hair tousled. Her hands crawled up to his neck as she planted a kiss under his chin. She felt the bulge in his pants and smirked. He wanted this just as much as she did. He grinded his hip to meets hers and made her gasp in excitement, her legs wrapping around his waist automatically. His hard-on met her wetness and it made her breath a little faster.

"Please," She begged, her fingers pulling his hair gently, "Take me, Ian."

He buried his face into her hair, "Mmm, God. I love it when you beg." He then kissed her neck, gently biting it and his tongue traveled down to her collarbone, "But I do remember you enjoy foreplay, very much." She shuddered in delight.

"Now, may I take this annoying thing off, my dear?" He played with her bra strap. His fingers tickling her skin. She bit her lip, nodding furiously, "Please do." In three seconds, her bra was successfully unhooked and on the floor.

"Still quite skillful at that, aren't you?" She teased, her nipples stiffening in the cold air, feeling hot and aroused.

"I had plenty of practice." Ian said, carelessly, placing kisses around her neck and shoulders.

Half-reluctantly, she pushed him away from herself, her expression hurt, "Why would you say that." She shook her head, biting her lower lip.

"Oh." He then nodded to himself when he realized what he just said, "Um, I didn't mean it that way." _Of course he did._

Foreign women were always exotic and not as clingy as her…but he did not want to ruin this perfect moment of their reunion, the chance of hot, steamy, make-up sex.

"Oh yeah?" Her voice cracked.

Oh no, was she going to cry again?

"It's you, only you." He cooed, cupping her face, causing her to close her eyes. He kissed her eyelids then eyelashes. She frowned, subduing a whimper from her throat.

* * *

"Don't fight it, Celia." Ian murmured, "You know you want this." His hand cupped her left breast, giving it a firm squeeze, she gasped loudly and her arms wrapped around his neck uncontrollably, "No, I don't I---you---"

"Stop denying, Celia." He whispered into her ear, his hot breath tempting her to let go of her hesitation, "You were just begging me to take you two minutes ago."

"Ian, even if we did this…" She was practically shaking; his hands began to caress her breasts, "Hmm?" He asked, his eyes never leaving hers. "It wouldn't change the fact that you left me."

"Well, I'm back now, that's all that matters." He muttered, his fingers teasing her nipples. It caused her to moan in pleasure and arch her head, exposing more flesh of her neck, "Oh God."

"See?" He taunted, "Your body is so much honest than your mouth. Let it go, Cee."

Hearing his nickname for her made her twitch physically in contradiction. Part of her wanted to kick his groin and him out of the house, but a part of her wanted to straddle him and have sex right there on the living room carpet. And the latter was on the winning side.

She could feel herself throbbing anticipation, "Please, Ian…"

"Please what?" He asked evilly, his hand moving slowly from her thighs to the waistband of her panties. Her body was practically jerking towards him, desperate for his embrace.

"Please," She ran her fingers through his hair, "Touch me."

He smirked as she gave in, pulling down her panties. She moaned as his fingers teased her sensitive area, "Mmm." "Do you like that?" He asked, entering a finger inside of her.

"Oh," She gasped and nodded madly, "Yes, yes."

"You are so tight." He told her, entering another finger, "And so wet."

Celia moaned once again, her body bucking towards him, "I never, I haven't---"

"Never what? Haven't what?" Ian asked as he pumped his fingers into her slowly.

She gasped loudly. He knew he hit the spot.

"Hm?" He thrust faster, "If you don't tell me, I have to stop what I'm doing."

Managing to speak, she finally said within heavy breaths, "I haven't been with any other man than you." She leaned in and kissed him. He kissed her back, passionately, pleased with her answer. She begged when he tore his lips away from her, "Now will can we please…"

"Move it into the bedroom?" He suggested, his fingers leaving her. She sighed in desperation, "Yes, please."

He grinned broadly, picking the naked her up in bridal style, walking into the master bedroom. He placed her gently on the bed. He kept his eyes on her the whole time. She sat on the bed shyly, "Your pants aren't off yet…may I?"

He arched an eyebrow but nodded. She crawled towards him, the huge bulge in his pants totally visible. She unzipped his trousers and pulled it down slowly. Then her fingers pulled down his boxers impatiently, finally exposing his erection.

To his surprise, the next second, her lips was teasing the tip of him and slowly took his shaft into her mouth. She had never done this to him and it excited him. He threw his head back, closing his eyes, "Oh God, Cee." She concentrated on pleasuring him.

Well, actually she was trying to memorize the tips she read in Cosmopolitan about 'giving your man the best blowjob he ever had'. Several minutes later, he growled her name and shuddered, releasing into her mouth. She first choked on it, embarrassingly, but managed to swallow it down.

"Christ, where did you learn to do that?" He asked, sounding rather impressed.

She shrugged and licked her lower lip unconsciously, "Uh, I just knew?"

He chuckled and pressed her down on the bed, "Very good job indeed. Now your turn to enjoy." His kissed traced from her earlobe to chest, lower to her stomach and lower…

Let's just say, they spent an awful long and steamy time '_reuniting_'.

* * *

"Oh, Celia," He groaned, hugging her from behind, "It's real good to be home. And I mean it." She closed her eyes, too exhausted to answer. As he began to snore silently behind her with his arms around her waist, all the memories the two of them once shared became flowing back to her mind. The memories she spent years to block away. She once again felt defeated. It was like, every time he hurt her, she would still go running back to him. But it didn't matter. At least he was home. It was vivid and true, not just her imagination.

In the morning, Celia was woken up by the ticklish feeling around her neck. Her eyes fluttered open and gasped. Ian Howe was kissing and nibbling on her neck. Hickeys…oh god. "Stop it, Ian." She whined, gently pushing him away from herself, pulling the blanket up to cover her exposed chest.

"I love it when you blush." He ruffled her hair and leaned in to kiss her on the nose. He then whispered seductively in her ear, "It's not like I haven't seen anything, Celia."

"Ian!" She squealed, smacking him on the arm, "Go take a cold shower, I'm all sore."

"Sore…in a good way?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, rubbing her shoulder.

Celia rolled her eyes but smiled, "Yes, now shoo! I'll go make you breakfast."

His eyes sparkled, "Just one more kiss." He dipped down and gave her a long, locking kiss, making Celia dazed. Just like the old times.

Ian finally tore himself away from her, his gaze fixated on her. Celia's lips parted, her breathing raspy. "God, you're sexy." He commented at the view of her: the milky skin of her shoulder blades showing from the blanket, about six bright red hickeys on her neck and her face blushing in the prettiest shade of pink. She pouted, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "Thank you, now will you please go take a shower?"

"Yes ma'am." He saluted her, walking off into the master bedroom's bathroom.

Celia couldn't help but laugh, sometimes he was just so damn…lovable. Even though she thought she forgave him a little too quickly…but the make-up sex last night…ohh la la.

* * *

She got off the bed, opened up a cabinet and quickly put on a t-shirt and girly briefs. Tying her hair up into a messy ponytail, she wandered into the kitchen. _What shall she make for breakfast?_

Ian walked up silently behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, whispering into her ear, "What are you making?"

She giggled, leaning her head against his chest, "Guess."

"Celia Vanderbilt's infamous burnt bacon and overly-sweet pancakes?" He teased.

She put her palm over her heart dramatically, "Yes, and I take that as a compliment."

"It is and it's my favorite meal. No sarcasm at all." He kissed her on the forehead, "I'll go get the newspaper." He fetched the morning's newspaper and reentered the kitchen.

"Oh, help yourself to some coffee." She pointed at the mugs stacked up neatly on the kitchen table without looking up from her frying pan. The mugs were placed exactly how he remembered. _Just a few new ones._

The mugs were a collection of Celia's. She had been collecting them since her freshman year in university. Whenever she came across a vibrant-colored, a mug with a meaningful quote on it…she would buy it.

He strolled over and picked up his favorite, or should we say, the only one he used. It had playing cards printed on it messily, with bold words on the bottom, it said, 'Holding All the Cards is Everything a Convincing Bluff Needs'. This was what he said to Ben Gates before his plan got out of hand. He frowned slightly, shaking his head. He poured coffee into his mug and sat down at the table, taking a sip of her homemade coffee. It tasted like home. The taste of it surprisingly relaxed him. He was home, after all.

* * *

**A/N: Hopefully you guys liked it and can review!**


	6. Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend

Author's Note: A huge thanks to** LilthXasthur**, **shariena** and **snaileychiic99** for your reviews! Enjoy!

* * *

He looked at the date of the newspaper on the front page: November 11th. It seemed like a familiar date, but he couldn't quite put his finger upon it…

"I bet you're in the papers. Mister Criminal." Celia teased, handing a plate to him and disturbing his focus.

He chuckled, "I appreciate your humor, my dear." And he dug right in his breakfast. She took the seat across from him, her face in her hand, examining him. He looked up, his mouth full, looking almost like a chipmunk.

She smiled goofily, "Is it good?"

He nodded, finally swallowing down the bacon in his mouth, "It's delicious."

"Better than prison food, huh?" She giggled, reaching for the newspaper's gossip page, "Ohh look, I like Nicky Hilton's bag. And her sandals…"

She studied the page until something on the left corner of it caught her attention. Her bottom lip began to tremble a little. Noticing the change of the look in her eyes, he touched her hand, "What is it, Celia?"

"You know her?" She dabbed her finger angrily at a photo with a caption underneath, 'Socialite Tracy Milligan claims that her bad-'beau' lover, Ian Howe is back in town'.

He clicked his tongue, looking at the picture his wife's coral pink nail was pointing at. The blond beauty in the photo was wearing a tight black dress cut to her mid-thigh and her massive cleavage was poking out of it. She was posing for the camera, blowing a kiss.

Ian groaned, rubbing his eyes. Sleeping with Tracy was one of the biggest mistakes ever. She was so horny and she might be paranoid for thinking that he even liked her!

"Erm, yes, I know Tracy." He admitted slowly.

Celia's eyes locked with his, making air quotes, "So, you're her 'bad boy' lover as she claims?"

"No." Ian shook his head.

"Then why would she think that?" She asked. "Please do not tell me you slept with her."

"It was a drunken mistake." He said, his eyes looked down at his pancakes and away from her cold gaze.

"Was that when we were together?"

"I'm not quite sure, I was drunk."

"You're married to me, God damn it!" Celia slammed her hand on the table, "You're my husband, you're not supposed to go to parties and get drunk and get laid with a fucking Barbie socialite!"

Honestly, he was quite shocked at his young wife's words. She was never the kind to drop the 'f' bomb and she sounded…well, jealous.

"I'm sorry," He said softly, "And I promise that won't happen again."

She was stunned by how fast he apologized. In their old state, he would make up lies and feed them to her, but he never admitted to evil things he had done so sincerely.

"Just finish your breakfast." She said coldly, not knowing what to say. She couldn't say, 'It's okay, I forgive you', right?

She stood up rudely from the table, entering their bedroom. She then slammed the bathroom door shut, turning on the shower water. She stripped out of her clothes and stood under the water. She exhaled sharply as the hot water hit her skin.

Celia was surprised that she wasn't crying. She smiled, being a little proud of herself.

* * *

She exited the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around her body.

He was standing at the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the wall, "Let's go out."

"What?!" She tried her best not to sound a least bit excited.

"Let's go out. I haven't been in town for awhile, you wanna take me around?" He suggested. She faked a frown and pretended to think, "Oh, okay. Sure, whatever."

"We'll not go if it's 'whatever' for you." He looked at her sternly.

She rolled her eyes, "Fine, I have to change first. Go away."

He smiled, striding over to her, placed his hands on her bare, wet shoulders, "Okay. I'm sorry, Celia." Her lips quivered, almost bursting out in laughter due to his sincerity.

"I love you." He tried again. Her eyes sparkled at the words.

_Those three words were always a charm._

She stood on her tippy-toes and pecked him on the lips, "I love you too."

He smiled, running a finger on the back of her neck---one of her many sensitive spots. A moan slipped out of her lips.

"Let's go to Grindewalls." He suggested.

Her eyes lit up, "Really? Are you sure?"

"Of course!" He said in an encouraging, up-beat voice, "I haven't been there in a long time, and I'm sure I've got a lot of new things to buy."

"Really, Ian?" She asked, still a little skeptical.

"Yes, Cee." He cooed, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

"Okay!" She beamed, kissing him on the cheeks, "I haven't been there in months as well! I have to go get dressed."

She rushed into her walk-in closet and shut the doors closed.

He chuckled, shaking his head. _Women and shopping._

He easily picked out a sophisticated white striped shirt and a suede jacket and put on his Diesel jeans. He checked his watch and called, "Cee, ready to go?"

"Just a…sec!" She mumbled, "I'm coming!" She stumbled out the closet, with one heel on, trying to balance while putting the other one on. "Okay, okay. I'm done."

She was wearing a white See By Chloe baby doll dress and a bright red cardigan.

"You look perfect for someone who went into the closet for only ten minutes." Ian teased, grabbing her waist and pulling her over for a kiss.

"Well, you look handsome as usual." She giggled, hugging him.

"Already to go?" He asked once again, inhaling her Jean Paul Gaultier Fragile perfume.

"Mhmm." She bobbed her head up and down excitedly.

* * *

They arrived at the Grindewalls shopping centre in ten minutes. The clean, white, shiny marble surface of the floor made Ian Howe smile. He liked things crisp, clean and expensive. And the two of them shared the same opinion about the smell of shopping malls. 'It's like we're in heaven, just in prettier clothes', Celia would always say.

As he predicted, she stood on her tipey-toes, inhaling the luxury. Then she exhaled in a happy sigh, "Ah, it's smells just like I remembered. Heaven."

"You're telling me you haven't been spending time in here every single day I was gone?" He asked, rubbing his chin. Her smile disappeared, hurt was her current facial expression, "No. Why would you say that?"

"I mean, you love shopping." He explained in a matter of fact, "If I were you, I would."

"Well, I didn't have a lot of money to spend." She mumbled, "And I'm not a shopaholic."

"I know you're not." He cooed, touching her arm, "And I told you already, if you just say it, I'd give you everything."

She pouted, "Ian, you're always spoiling me." But she felt good, having someone's attention finally in so long.

"You deserve to be spoiled, and you've been so alone for a long time." He wrapped his arm around her waist, whispering upon her ear, "You want to do it in the changing room again?" She burst out in laughter, smacking his arm, "No, we'd be banned from here!"

"True." He smiled.

They held hands and entered different boutiques. Sometimes he would sit on the cushion and watch her go in and out of changing rooms, coming out in different colors and styles of dresses, twirling in them for him to choose for her. Sometimes the two of them would burst out laughing because she almost tripped on a shoe box and end up kissing, with him saying, "You should get this one. It looks very nice on you."

Then it would be her turn to sit on the cool designed chairs, her face placed in her palm, 'evaluating' him as he tried on shirts and trousers and shoes. She would always force him to put on the newest aviator sunglasses and tease him, "You look super hot, I swear." He would pull off the glasses and pull her over, teasing her with dirty, wicked comments, like, "I swear I will make you _feel_ super hot." With her blushing face, he would smirk and take her to the counter, paying for the shirts he liked.

* * *

Within two hours, the two of them have already had four or five shopping bags swinging back and forth in their hands.

"Ohh." Celia suddenly said, "Can I please go to Tiffany's for just a while?"

He shrugged, "Sure."

They entered the robin egg blue store filled with diamonds.

"Hi, would you like me to show you the latest earrings?" A lady clerk offered to Celia.

"Oh, that would be delightful!" She beamed, following the lady to the glass case.

Ian looked around and spotted the male manager polishing some diamonds across the counter. He strode over and grinned, "Hello, I was wondering if you could help me out with picking a gift."

The manager looked up, "Of course, sir. Who is it for and what event is it for?" He asked attentively.

"You see my little wife over there?" Ian pointed over to Celia, who was on the other side of the store, exclaiming at the earrings the clerk was showing her. The manager nodded. "Well, it's our fourth marriage anniversary; I would like to get her something nice."

"Yes, of course." The manager nodded once again, "What does the lady like?"

Ian smiled smugly, "That's why I'd like to ask you to help me picking it out."

The manager showed him some of the necklaces, not necessary full carat diamond necklaces, but just simple ones. He really liked a silver one with a shooting star dangling in the middle, with little diamonds decorated around the star. _It fit her personality well._

"I think this one would be perfect." He pointed at it.

The manager smiled, "Yes, very well. Visa, sir?"

"Indeed."

"Hey, sorry I took so long." Celia walked over to him as the manager handed Ian the necklace in a small robin egg blue box in a same colored bag.

"I've kept myself busy." He shrugged, putting his arm around her shoulder.

"What's that?" She asked, curiously, "I can't believe you bought something from Tiffany's but I didn't."

"Well, it is not for myself." He hinted.

She frowned, "Then who is it for?"

"You, of course." He smiled.

"What for?" She asked, ditzy.

"Cee, you couldn't have possibly forgotten that today it's our anniversary?"

"It is?" She exclaimed, smacking her forehead, "November…November 11th. Oh my god, it is! How could I forget? I'm so sorry." She hugged him, pressing her face against his chest, "I love you! I can be so clumsy at times."

"Well, do you want to see what I bought you?" He suggested. He felt his shirt turn wet. Was she crying again?

She sniffled, looking up and nodded, "Okay."

He pulled out the little blue box and undid the perfect ribbon, taking off the lid, she let out a gasp of excitement, "Oh, Ian, I absolutely love it! Can…can you put it on for me?"

"I was just planning to."

She held up her black hair as he fastened the cold, silver necklace around her delicate neck. Her fingers touched the shooting star, tracing the contour of it, "Thank you, Ian."

"I told you, you deserve it." He leaned down and placed a kiss on her neck.

She couldn't help but smile. This was just the most perfect day. Well, almost.

The manager and clerk stood behind the counter, smiling as well. They loved these kind of customers.

* * *

**A/N: That's all for now! I'm bringing in a new character from the movie in the next chapter and there's also another sex scene, lol!**


	7. Getting Cozy in the Changing Room

Author's Notes: I would love to thank the reviewers on my story! I've just finished my exams and so here's another chapter!

* * *

"Do you want some coffee?" Ian asked, as they exited Tiffany & Co.

"Yeah, that would be great." She beamed. Together, they went down the escalator to the food court.

"Double chocolate chip Frap as usual?" He asked her. She nodded, smiling sheepishly.

"Good. I'll be right back." He told her.

"Okay. Thanks, Ian." She kissed him on the cheek and watched him as he enter Starbucks with such pride in his steps. He also had a 'sexy back', just like how Justin Timberlake sang. Giggling to her own thought, she looked around and spotted a familiar face. He locked on hers and she beamed. She waved at him and 'he' waved back, a little uncertain.

"Riley!" Celia exclaimed excitedly, rushing to her old friend from university.

"Hey, Celia." Riley laughed nervously, pushing up his glasses as she gave him a tight bear hug, "How are you?"

"I'm alright." She giggled, "You? Mister Adventurer?"

"Just got back from a hell of a trip." He confessed, "Well, you're looking great, are you here yourself?"

"Thank you, you don't look too bad yourself." Celia smiled, "Oh and I'm here with my husband."

"You're married?" Riley blurted, "But you just graduated, didn't you?"

"Yes, silly. And you have graduated like what, three years before me? You're still single?"

"Uh, no." Riley lied, "But I'm working on a book."

"Awesome." Celia grinned, giving his arm a squeeze, "What is it about?"

"Well it's just about my adventures and all that jazz." Riley smiled, "How bout you, little miss writer? Any published work?"

"Uh," Celia slightly frowned, but quickly covered her unpleasantness with a roll of eyes and silly laugh, "No, actually. I devoted my life into being a wife."

"So will I be able to meet the lucky man husband of yours?" Riley asked, "I'd love to see what kind of a man would sweep the Celia Vanderbilt off her feet."

She giggled at her friends' words, giving him another hug. How she missed Riley Poole. He was the Dean's assistant and was also her history course tutor. They became close friends, even though Riley had graduated three years earlier than her.

* * *

Ian Howe spot Celia talking with a man, hugging him and tossing her dark hair and laughing. Was this how Celia acted around men when he was not around?!

An urge of jealousy stirred up inside of him as he gripped tightly onto the two cups of coffee and strode towards them.

"Celia." He said sternly.

"Oh, Riley, this is Ian, my husband." Celia introduced them to each other. She took the cup of coffee from Ian's hand and noticed the angry look in his green eyes.

"Um, Ian, this is Riley, my friend from university."

"You!" Riley almost jumped, pointing his index finger at Ian.

"Yes, me." Ian smirked, giving Riley a dead-serious look and wrapping a protective arm around Celia's skinny waist.

"Oh, you guys know each other?" Celia asked, taking a sip from her cup.

"Yes--" Riley was cut off by Ian's "No."

"Oh." She nodded, eyeing the two of them. How strange, their interaction.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Poole." Ian reached out a hand for him to shake.

Riley cleared his throat and shook it, with the hardest grip he could, "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Howe."

"Hey, how did you know each other's last names?" Celia put her hands on her hips.

_These two clearly knew each other._

"He was the one who---" Riley blurted out, but was cut off by Ian once again, "Riley and I had previously met at an antique charity, have we not?"

Riley angrily cleared his throat, "Yes, yes we have."

"Oh, I see." Celia nodded, "Well, it's it such a small world! Tell us, what are you doing in town, Riles?"

Riles? Ian frowned. She didn't give _him_ a nickname.

"I'm just running some errands." Riley shrugged, uncomfortable with Ian Howe's death glare. It was burning two holes on his back. He quickly looked at his watch, "Oh, I've got to go now, but uh, we'll keep in touch, right, Cee?"

Ian Howe's hands clenched into fists, how dare this little geeky punk call her Cee? That was what he called her. Only him. Celia was _his_.

"Yes, of course!" Celia gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, "See you around, Riles." Riley hastily walked away, mumbling.

* * *

"What was that?" Celia poked Ian in the arm, "You didn't seem quite friendly with Riley."

"Why should I be?" Ian asked, drinking his coffee casually before continuing, "I don't like how he looks at you. You're my wife."

Celia's lips curved up into a satisfied grin, "Aw, you sound jealous. Are you?"

Ian clicked his tongue, frowning, hating to admit, "Yes, yes I am. You're mine. Only I get to call you Cee."

"Right, I know. Trust me; Riley's just a really good friend." She insisted, taking his hand, "I love you and you're my husband. And I don't want that Tracy what's-her-face to say that you're hers."

"So we've come to an agreement?" He concluded their conversation, tightening his grip on her hand. Celia sighed, pecking him on the lips, "Yes, I love you."

He raised his eyebrows. She tilted her head, staring back at him confusedly until she knew what he was hinting. Sighing but also smiling, she said, "Well, I really liked that blazer at Ralph Lauren."

"You should go try it on in the changing room." Ian smirked, "I can help you with that."

They threw their Starbucks cups into the garbage bin and held their hands, heading back upstairs to Ralph Lauren.

* * *

Celia gracefully picked up a few polos and the blazer she wanted, cleverly all in a different size, saying to the clerk, "Hi, I'd like to try these on."

"No problem, follow me, miss." The chic clerk smiled, leading her to the changing room stalls. She unlocked one, "Here you go."

"Thank you." Celia smiled sweetly. Ian entered the stall with her and the clerk shot them a strange glance. Ian quickly smiled politely, "I'd like to help her."

The clerk shrugged, leaving them be.

As soon as Celia locked the door, Ian pushed her against the mirror gently, kissing her deeply. The shirts in her hands fell to the ground and she let out a small gasp."Ian—I have to pick them up---"

"Save that for later." He growled into her ear, his hands running up her thighs, underneath her dress. She not only trembling at his touch, but also in fear that they might get caught.

His fingers traced the line of her panties, causing her to inhale sharply.

"So wet already." He hummed into her ear, plunging a finger into her. Her body jerked up, her nails digging into his suede jacket. She groaned but quickly covered her mouth with her own palm.

He continued to finger her and his other hand was traveling between her neck and waist. He would squeeze her breast or pinch her ticklish spot on her waist, making her pant and twitch, which allowed his fingers into her deeper flesh.

"Oh my god, Ian." She gasped, "I---"

"Are you cumming?" He asked her, accelerating the pumping of his fingers. She nodded, shutting her eyes close, biting her lip, causing it to bleed. A wave of ecstasy washed through her, leaving her trembling and breathing heavily.

"We're not done yet." He smirked mischievously, "Come on now." He unzipped his jeans and pulled down his boxers, entering her almost immediately.

"Ah!" She moaned out loud, making her regret instantly.

She heard the click-clacking of the clerk's heels getting closer and a knock on the stall door. "Is everything alright in there, ma'am?" The clerk asked.

Ian shot Celia a look and she frowned. He thrust into her deeper. Her position right now was her back against the wall with her legs wrapped around her husband's waist. She threw her arms around his neck, kissing his eyebrows, making him thrust into her again and again.

"Uh…yes." She managed to say, and the clerk's footsteps distanced away.

"Good girl." He grinned at her. She was so goddamned sexy. Some of her hair was in her face and her face was flushed red in sensuality and embarrassment.

"Ian, I can't…" She whined, "I can't take it anymore, please."

"Alright." He quickened his pace, kissing her right temple, "You better pick a polo too. They're on discount." She groaned at his silly humor and a scream was about to escape from her lips as they both hit their climax. Ian pressed his lips over hers, silencing her. Her bare legs were weak and wobbly and dangled around his waist.

It took him a moment to pant and regain himself. Lifting her legs gently off of him, he placed her down on the seat on the other side of the changing room. Her body trembled at his touch. "That was amazing, my love." He kissed her on the forehead.

For your information, Ian not only bought the blazer for her, but also a brand new blouse, identical to the one he had torn apart last night.

* * *

"That was exciting." Ian said, starting the engine.

Celia giggled, tying her hair up into a ponytail, reapplying her lipstick. "We're lucky that we didn't get busted."

"We should really do that again." He suggested, as they drove away from the shopping centre.

"Ian!" Celia smacked his arm, "That is probably the worst place to have sex. The changing rooms are small and I can't make a noise."

"True." He grinned, "But you liked it."

She blushed madly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and mumbled, "Yes."

"Well I'm glad. It's always a pleasure." He kissed her on the cheek, ruffling her hair, making her giggle.

* * *

**A/N: That was a short, fluffy, silly chapter, but hey, at least I added everyone's beloved Riley in! I hope you all liked it and reviews make me really happy :)**

**Oh, and hurray for Summer '09!**


	8. Catching Up With Riley

Three Weeks Later

"Where are you going?" Ian asked, rubbing his eyes as he wandered into the living room in his boxers.

"Oh, I have a date with Riley, he's in town again." Celia waved her hand, "I made you breakfast, it's ready on the table. I'll be back before…five o'clock, okay?" She glanced at her watch.

"Do you have to dress up so nice to meet _him_?" Ian asked, annoyed. She was wearing a BCBG dress and Marc Jacobs kitten heels---and it showed her bare long legs.

"Well, we're having brunch at the Plaza café." Celia looked down at the floor, "And it's expensive there, of course I can't dress too casual."

"It's not a bloody runway, Celia." Ian rolled his eyes, "And the Plaza doesn't have a dress code."

"Fine." She mumbled, kicking off her shoes and picking them up, stomping into their bedroom, tossing her shoes into her closet without lining them up neatly. She almost tore off her dress with her shaking fingers, why did he care about what she wore?

It wasn't like she was wearing a skin-tight mini-dress two sizes smaller and skyscraping heels. That was Tracy's style, not hers. Celia thought she looked nice and decent in her dress. And she liked showing her legs at a proper length, they were her best features.

She impatiently put on a white lace halter top and the Ralph Lauren blazer she had bought a few weeks ago and a pair of True Religion jeans. She cursed while she fumbled through her jewelry box, throwing on a funky necklace. She took off the Tiffany's necklace Ian bought for her: because it didn't match with the new necklace she put on and also to piss him off. To finish her look, she stepped into a pair of gray suede peep-toe Salvatore Ferragamos. Checking herself out in the mirror, she didn't look too bad.

Walking out of the closet and grabbing her Gucci clutch from the bed, she scowled at Ian, who was yet again standing in the doorway.

She threw out her arms, "You happy? No boobs poking out, no legs showing." 'Not like Tracy' she secretly added under her breath.

He said in a taunting tone, "Nice. But jeans, at the Plaza?"

"Whatever." Celia rolled her eyes, "I'm leaving."

"Celia." He called her again, when she literally turned her back on him.

"Yes, Ian?" She spun around, tapping her shoe, her arms crossed around her chest.

"Come here." He demanded, "What did you forget?"

"I didn't forget anything---" She stammered.

He pulled her over to him, planting a kiss on her forehead, "Have a great day, Cee."

She smiled nervously, "Uh, you too."

* * *

"Hey Riles," Celia greeted him hastily as she sat down at the dining table across him, "Sorry I'm late."

"It's okay," He mumbled, playing with his fork on the table, "I wouldn't be surprised if your husband grounded you either."

"Ian's not that bad." She shook her head, reaching into her bag and pulled out a small wrapped box, handing it to him.

"What's this?" He asked, curiously.

"Open it!" She grinned goofily. He did, untying the ribbon and tearing open the gift wrap. Inside was a Rolex watch.

"Oh, Celia, you didn't' have to." He scratched his head, not able to hide how flattered he felt, "I mean, I like my digital watch just as much---"

Celia hung her head low, "Oh." She licked her lips, "Oh well."

"I mean I love it, but it's too luxurious." Riley explained.

She snorted, rolling her eyes, "Please. That's what I always say to Ian. He forces me to keep it, just like I'm gonna force you to."

"Thank you so much then." Riley laughed, "Well, shall we order?"

"Indeed." She nodded.

* * *

Celia bit on a breadstick, chewing it carefully. "So, what antique charity did you and Ian meet at? I'm curious, because I never knew Ian went to those before."

"Well, uh…it was in New York." Riley lied, but bit his tongue before he continued.

"You know what," He shook his head, "I should be honest with you." He shot Celia a stern look. She nodded her eyes, encouraging him to continue.

"Your husband is engaged in illegal actions. Like, very serious ones."

"Mhmm." Celia nodded, putting a small piece of cheesecake into her mouth.

"Well, aren't you supposed to say something?" Riley exclaimed.

"Uh," Celia drew a circle in the air with her fork and tilted her head, "No?"

"He tried to steal the Declaration of Independence, Celia." 'He even tried to kill people' But, Riley kept it to himself.

"Oh. Oh, are you serious?" Her eyes widened, but her poise remained calm.

"Yes, of course I am! How can you be so…cool about it? He's a criminal, and you just bailed him out."

"What are you trying to say?" Celia squinted her eyes, "That I'm a criminal too?"

"No, no! That's not what I mean. I'm just saying, keep an eye out for him."

"Fine, fine, whatever." Celia rolled her eyes, "Let's not talk about him. Let's talk about you. Are you still single?"

"Uhh, what?" He coughed awkwardly, lying, "No, no, of course I'm not. I'm seeing this girl, Abigail—I have a photo of her." Using his witty little mind, he quickly pulled out his digital camera and showed her a picture of himself and Abigail in front of Ben and Abigail's gorgeous mansion.

"Wow, she's beautiful, you are such a lucky guy!" Celia reached over to give Riley a gentle punch on the shoulder, "Well I guess that means I can't be a matchmaker this time then…what a bummer."

Riley sighed in relief. When Celia does matchmaking, she gets totally into it. And that's never good.

"Anyways, do you want to go shopping? This is my last day here, so I was thinking I should get something for Abby and Ben—I mean, erm, me."

"I'd love to go shopping with you!" She clapped her hands excitedly, "Grindewalls?"

"Grindewalls it is." He smiled, glad that she dropped the subject of Abigail. Now he had to buy something for her to thank her existence as a fake girlfriend.

* * *

"Oh, you should get her this!" Celia squealed and pulled a blue chiffon blouse on a hanger off the rack, "I think it matches her hair and skin tone really well."

"Uh, yeah, it sure does." Riley nodded.

_The thing was, Abigail already had the same shirt._

"Hmm, I wonder how much it is." She pulled out the price tag, hanging in the sleeve, "A hundred and twenty two. It's worth it, you wanna get it for her? She would love it."

"I think that's quite all right." He quickly put the blouse back on the rack, "There are still other stores."

"Oh, okay, whatever you say." She shrugged.

"You mind if I go to Dunhill?" Celia asked Riley as they exited Burberry and spotting a huge campaign of Jude Law.

"Sure." It was Riley's turn to shrug: she had insisted buying two matching scarves for him and Abigail at Burberry which cost a hundred something. To be polite, he had bought Burberry's The Beat fragrance for her in return.

"Oh, what do you think of that tie?" She pointed at the mannequin.

Riley pushed up his glasses, "I think it looks pretty sharp."

"I know, right?" She exclaimed, waving at a clerk named Mark.

Mark strolled over and asked politely, "How may I help you, Miss?"

"I'd like that tie, please." She nodded towards the mannequin.

"Exquisite taste, Miss. I'll go get you a brand new one." Mark smiled.

"Ian is going to be totally thrilled!" Celia whispered to Riley excitedly.

* * *

**A/N: Summer has started, I hope you guys have a great one!**


	9. Raw Resistance

Ian Howe gritted his teeth as he peered through the window, seeing Celia hopping off Riley Poole's bold red Ferrari in a excited motion, shopping bags in her hands and she ran to the driver's seat, giving her 'friend' a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. Poole then drove away.

Ian could hear Celia's steps and humming in the hallway from outside the door. She was still humming when she opened the front door, a wide smile on her face when she saw him, "Hey Ian---"

"Didn't you say five o'clock?" Ian crossed his arms across his chest, staring at his wife, whose smile disappeared from her happy face.

"Well, I guess I forgot the time, Riley and I were too into the shopping, and we---"

"Shopping? Didn't you go shopping last week?" He snapped.

"That was three weeks ago!" Celia whined, "And we were picking out presents and stuff."

"Stuff, huh?" He sneered.

"Well, I got a few pair of shoes and a dress and---"

"I guess you had a lot of fun, didn't you?"

"You shouldn't be mad. I didn't forget you, look: I got you something." She searched through her shopping bags and pulled out a small box with a Dunhill tie in it, "Ta-da! I knew you wanted this tie the moment you saw it. Your eyes were flickering when we passed the store. Don't be mad, please." She gave him her puppy dog eyes and a pout.

"Was it a coincidence that Riley Poole had the same Rolex watch as I?" He questioned her. She giggled nervously, "Well, you said you didn't like the watch, so I guess why not give it to someone else who needs it? I mean, his digital watch was worn out, he needed a new one." She reached over to hold his wrist, pushing his sleeve up, exposing his also new watch, "See?"

He pulled his hand away, angry that she was right. He didn't like that stupid Rolex watch but he was getting jealous over it. "Well, when you are giving my things out to people, would you mind asking me first?"

"Yes, sir." Celia purred, wrapping her arms around his waist, her cheek against his chest.

He pushed her arms off him with a tiny hint of disgust, entering the bedroom and picking up a jacket and putting it on, turning the knob of the front door with a cigarette in his mouth.

"Where are you going? I'm about to make dinner!" Celia called from the kitchen.

"No need for that. I'm going out."

"Out where?" Celia asked, but her answer was a slam of the door.

She frowned, what did she do wrong? Was the pattern of the tie not what he wanted? It was the same tie Jude Law was wearing in the campaign!

Ian exhaled smoke from his cigarette and threw it to the floor, stepping on it. He got into his BMW, which he was thrilled that Celia had just been joking about selling and knew exactly where he was headed: Tracy Milligan's house.

* * *

"God, Ian, it's three o'clock in the morning." Celia muttered, rubbing her eyes as she opened the door. He stood there, staring at her, his green eyes flickering.

"Ian, you're drunk." Celia said when he staggered into the room unsteadily. The strong smell of alcohol made her brows furrow.

"I'm not fucking drunk." He spat, pushing past her.

She hurried behind him, pulling the sleeve of his shirt, "Come on, let's get you a shower and you should get some sleep."

He tore himself away from her, growling, "Just shut up for once, Celia."

"Ian, you are drunk. You don't know what you're saying, come on now, I'll go get some water for you." She was visually wincing at his harsh words.

"I don't need that. I'm not drunk, God damn it." Ian insisted, angrily.

"Then you should get some rest, here---" The two of them entered the master bedroom and she yelped when he violently slammed her against the wall, using one hand to grab both of her thin wrists and pinning them above her head, "Is this the only way to shut you up, you whore?" He sneered, his hot breath on her neck as she whimpered, "Ian, let me go, you don't know what you're doing."

"For fuck's sake, Celia. You just don't know when to shut up." He pressed his lips harshly upon hers, making her struggle, "Stop it, Ian!" She managed to say between his kisses. The hot, spicy taste of Vodka tickled her tongue. She tried to kick him off but he was just too strong.

"Stop fighting and you'll probably enjoy it." He smirked. His two-day stubble was prickling her chin. She stopped her helpless kicking and gave in to submission. Tears were now rolling down her cheeks. "Oh, stop your bloody crying for once." He said loudly in a sarcastic tone. He pushed her onto the bed and climbed up upon her, "I bought you everything you wanted, so start acting like a wife."

"Is this what this is about?" She asked suddenly in horror, "Just because I bought some stuff and you're mad?"

_So he wasn't mad about her and Riley?_

Ignoring her question, he laughed ruthlessly, "And I slept with Tracy, again." Then separated her legs, forcing himself between her.

"Stop it, Ian!" She slapped him across the face, hard, wanting to smack some sense out of him. She didn't want to be forced to have sex with him. She couldn't report for rape because he was her legal husband and god knows how kinky people can be!

He stopped and rolled to the side slowly, falling asleep immediately.

That was absolutely the most horrid and stupid thing that ever happened to Celia Vanderbilt. But she didn't know Ian would get so pissed off at something so unimportant.

She trembled, imagining what the worst would have happened.

Tears rolled down her eyes… He slept with Tracy that whore again, just because she bought a Balenciaga bag and Miu Miu purse? And those Michael Kors wedges? And that Donna Karan dress? They were just some new items for her summer wardrobe! And that Miu Miu purse had a discount! What was the big deal? To make him feel _fair_, she even got him a Dunhill tie!

She got off the bed, sniffling silently, grabbing a few set of clothes and stuffed them in her Louis Vuitton duffel bag. She left a note on her pillow.

Stepping into her comfortable Tory Burch flats, she tip-toed out of the house and got on the car. There was only one place she wanted to go to get away: Marge's Bed & Breakfast. She didn't need Red-Bull this time, she never felt so awake. His drunken words were a wake-up call.

* * *

Ian Howe groaned and sat up slowly from the bed, massaging his own temple, "What the hell…Celia?" He called out to the empty bedroom, "Celia?"

He was having a hangover…his head burned like hell and he was dizzy. He entered the washroom and saw a slightly red hand mark on his face. He touched it and it stung quite a bit. Did Celia slap him? Shaking his head, he washed his face and brushed his teeth. Coming out of the bathroom, he then spotted the note on the pillow, written with scribbled girly handwriting that only belonged to his wife.

**" Enjoy your Dunhill tie, arsehole(that's the British way of saying Asshole, isn't it?) No offense, lad. I'm gone –C"**

He first chuckled then realized what happened, "What?" He ran his fingers through his hair, a little panicking. She's gone? Gone where? _Grocery shopping or gone forever?_

Frowning, the memories from last night came flooding back into his mind, he went over to Tracy's…they had sex and he had a couple of drinks…he managed to drive back home without getting arrested for drinking and driving and he---then he tried to force Celia into sex. And maybe he said a few harsh words.

"Damn it." He cursed to himself, biting his nails. Was she serious? Of course she's mad at him, but…

He rushed to her walk-in closet and noticed a few pairs of shoes and clothes gone. He shouldn't have went to Tracy's. He was just mad at Celia going to meet with that Riley kid! He just wanted to make her jealous…how stupid of him.

His Nokia phone rang, and he quickly picked it up, "Celia? I'm sorry---"

"Ian, it's me!" The bubbly voice of Tracy Milligan could not be mistaken, "Have you done your dirty deeds yet?"

"What dirty deeds?" He asked, "And why are you calling me?"

"Ian, honey, you said you were going to end it with your silly little wife! Like, divorce her!" Tracy giggled, "So?"

"So? So nothing!" Ian snapped, "God, you are such a bitch for doing this to me, Tracy."

"But you promised you would, how can you say that?" She gasped, on the other side of the phone.

"I was drunk, for god's sake!" He yelled, "This is the end of our little fling."

"No, Ian, you can't!" Tracy began to sob, "We were so happy together!"

"It was just pure sex, Tracy." He shook his head, sighing. He hated when women cried. "You'll, uh, find a perfect guy for you, I guess." Then he hung up.

_Yeah, a gold digger, probably._

Tracy knew it was the end of their relationship and she wasn't the jealous type. She'd have another date tomorrow, so her existence didn't bother Ian.  
What worried him the most was where Celia was? Dozens of questions popped up in his mind.

Was she safe? Would she be crying her eyes out again? Where would she possibly go?

Was she with Riley Poole? Because she better not be…

* * *

**A/N: Very soap-opera-ish...silly...but at least fun to write. I hope you liked it :)**


	10. Heart To Heart With Dolly the Prostitute

Author's Note:

I apologize for the late update, I'm stuck in a writer's block and summer isn't going as well as I planned it to be.

This chapter is slightly short, but I do hope you all can still enjoy it.

* * *

Ian Howe cursed out loud, pacing around the room, having the urge to bite his nails. He pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and pressed speed-dial. He knew his partners in crime were safely bailed out of jail, because he had pulled some strings; they were up to something new, but without Celia noticing, of course.

"Phil, call up Victor for me, I need some help."

* * *

After checking in at the Bed &Breakfast at six in the morning, Celia dragged her legs and duffel bag up the stairs. "You again." Dolly, the prostitute nodded towards Celia. She was standing at the corner, her back against the wall.

"Hello." Celia forced a smile.

"Where's your boyfriend?"

"He's my husband." Celia quickly corrected her, "And I got in a fight with him so, here I am." She bit her lip, gripping on the handle of her luggage, "What are you doing here anyway?" She continued and asked, pushing up her sleeves.

Dolly shrugged, looking at her watch, "I was waiting for the past twenty seven minutes for a customer but I guess he's not bothering to show up. So, you wanna talk about it?" She asked, sounding sincere.

Celia laughed awkwardly, "Talk about what, your profession?" Realizing what she just said, she quickly shook her head, "I'm, um, sorry. I didn't mean that. I just had a really bad day…"

"So, let me ask you again, you want to talk about it?"

Slowly, Celia nodded her head, smiling weakly, "That would be nice."

Dolly helped Celia move her luggage into her room and plopped down on the bed, sighing, "What happened, you had a tiff with your husband?"

Celia laughed sadly, "If it was only a tiff. It's rather complicated."

"I've got all day," Dolly yawned, "You can talk to me, I won't charge you. Girl talk is for free. I'm getting bored anyways."

"Well," Celia unzipped her suitcase and started to pull out clothes from it and putting them into drawers, "My husband…is involved in legally questionable activities."

"What, he's dealing drugs?" Dolly snickered, crossing her legs.

Celia shot her a glare, "No, something worse than that. The last time you saw me and him, I just bailed him out from jail, for a million dollars, in cold, hard cash."

Dolly arched her perfectly knitted brows, "Wow. Continue please."

* * *

Celia told her everything; how they met, when they married, their honeymoon, their penthouse apartment, when he left her and their 'reunion' and last night's 'incident'.

"Well, if you don't mind I ask, how was the make-up sex? Or let's just cut straight to the point, how is he in bed?" Dolly asked with no shame. Celia's face went completely red, "Excuse me?"

"Well, I asked, 'How is he in bed'?" Dolly repeated, tapping her foot on the floor, "So?"

Celia bit her lip, "Um, that is rather private information that I don't feel comfortable sharing with....anyone."

"Oh come on." Dolly rolled her eyes, "I'm a prostitute. Trust me, I know men. Just spill."

Celia squinted her eyes and sighed, "Oh, alright. He is a gentleman. He respects me. Um, he's gentle and loving, but sometimes he is rough and possessive." Her face was red as she quickly finished her answer.

"So overall," Dolly nodded, "He's a good fuck?"

"I beg your pardon?" Celia asked, a little annoyed that this prostitute she hardly knew was talking about Ian like he was some kind of…object.

"So you like him or not?" Dolly folded her arms across her chest.

"I love him." Celia stated, her voice trembling. It hurt so much to speak of the truth, "And, yeah, he is a good fu—I mean, he is amazing in bed." She giggled slightly at her own words. It was so bare and so true.

Dolly nodded, "Then what's the problem? He just got drunk, said a few harsh things and almost had rough sex with you."

"That," Celia held up her index finger, "Was almost rape."

Dolly laughed, "You might have enjoyed it. Too bad you gave up your chance."

"Ew, it's not all sex in a relationship, you know?" Celia shook her head.

"I had a husband once, too." Dolly started, her face sullen, "I was like you. Believing love is all that mattered. But not to men, no. They want sex more than anything. Well, I wasn't as experienced back then as I am now; anyways, he would rather go to prostitutes and hookers than his own wife. He hardly came home. He was an alcoholic too. He hit me, sometimes…I was so silly, letting him treat me like that for one full year. That's the disadvantage for marrying so young. I was twenty one at that time…but nothing else mattered, only him."

"I completely understand how you feel." Celia nodded in sympathy, "I'm so sorry to hear about that…and for judging you before I even got to know you…"

"Nah, I'm used to it. Now, I'm a prostitute, isn't it ironic? I'm finally_ good_ in bed." Dolly tossed her hair and laughed, "Once he came to me for my 'service'. The bastard was so shocked that it was even me. He even wanted to get back with me." Dolly smirked, "I just said, 'A hundred dollars for the night, sir' and left him completely speechless. Now he has to live with the guilt that he turned his ex-wife into a whore."

"You are not a whore." Celia exclaimed, hugging Dolly, "You are a woman seeking revenge for one who broke your heart. So you divorced him?"

"Yeah, like at the seventh time he hit me. He was drunk and didn't realize I had left the next day."

"I suddenly feel my story is not even comparable to what you have been through…" Celia shook her head, "But I still don't understand why Ian would sleep with Tracy What's-her-face."

"Well, in this case I believe your husband is just feeling needy sometimes and according to what you're saying, he gets jealous. A lot." Dolly explained.

"Well, how can I prevent that?" She pouted, "I love him. He should know that. I tell him that every day."

"Honey, I think that's the point. He's so used to you telling him you love him. Lemme ask you this: how often does he tell you he loves you?"

Dolly's question had caught Celia completely off guard, making her stutter her answer, "Um, not _that _often. But that doesn't mean he doesn't love me, right? He loves me, he just isn't used to saying it." Tears increased in her eyes as she tried to convince herself.

"I believe he loves you, hon. You…just have to play a little more hard to get. He takes you for granted and doesn't appreciate you."

"Yeah." Celia sniffled, "Thanks for talking to me, Dolly."

"Hey, look. You want a job?" Dolly asked her, suddenly.

"As a prostitute? No offense, but no thanks." Celia shook her head.

"Nah, don't be silly." Dolly rolled her eyes, lighting a cigarette, "I meant to work here. As a staff, like a maid or something."

"Um, I don't know about that. I'm not really good at chores or anything, really."

"You'll learn! My aunt Marge would love to have you as company. She adores you! You were actually the first person to call me out on my…behavior."

"Well, I suppose I'm sorry." Celia smiled apologetically.

"Haha, don't be. But I'm serious, you'd be perfect, because my aunt Marge is lacking some help from others…you see, I sometimes need to earn some extra money." Dolly winked, making Celia burst out in laughter, "Fine, I'll give it a shot. Just don't make fun of me!"

* * *

_One Week Later_

"Room service!" Celia chirped, knocking on the door and pushing the trolley, entering the room. "Good morning, sir. Here's your breakfast."

She giggled to herself; hey, she wasn't too bad at this!

"Good morning, Celia." Ian greeted her casually, lying on the bed, staring at her amusingly. She looked exceptionally adorable in that maid uniform.

"Ian!" She jumped at the familiarity of his voice, startled. "What the hell are you doing here?"

* * *

**A/N: That's all for now...is this story going well? I'm starting to lose confidence. Review if you'd like, you readers are my motivation.**

**Oh, and there's yet another smut scene in the next chapter...one of the most graphic ones I've ever attempted to write...**


	11. Naughty Things & Emotions Revealed

Author's Note:

I would like to thank **LilithXasthur**'s constant support;

and a special thanks to the **anonymous writer** who left a very detailed and insightful review: you're points were dead on and I will definitely work on my character building. There are other plans for my characters later on in the story and I hope they can 'save' my story. I've taken every word into mind and will try my hardest to improve. I do hope you can continue reading; more so providing more constructive, beneficial reviews. Thank you so much, it's exactly what I need and I truly appreciate it!

There is a mega-typhoon that hit Taiwan this weekend: I'm lucky I'm located on the North end, it's terrible in the South. Two dozen bridges collapsed and hundred, thousands have lost their homes and some even their life. May God bless Taiwan.

Here's the new chapter; there's another lemon scene in the middle. I apologize if the first part is rather fluffy...

* * *

"I'm here for you." Ian yawned, patting at the side of the bed, "Come sit."

"No." Celia bit her lip.

"Listen, I know that you're still pissed about me and Tracy." He sighed.

"Of course I am!" She shrieked, "I didn't cheat on you, never ever! Just because I bought some clothes and you go fucking that slut to get even with me? Do you know how stupid that is, Ian?"

"So you would rather be a maid and push around trolleys and cleaning rooms instead of home with me?"

"I do not clean rooms---stop changing the subject!" She stomped, "And yes, this job is really decent. People treat me nice here, they respect me, not like you!"

"What happened with Tracy was just another drunken mistake."

"Yeah right, you bloody liar! You went to sleep with her first then drank some booze, am I right? You tried to rape me! I'm your wife for god's sake, Ian!"

"I know and that's why I'm here: I feel like hell after waking up with a hangover with you gone. I've been looking for you this whole week!"

"Oh, so you feel like hell just because I was gone for a week? How about me? At least I left home with a reason, you left me for two years with no excuse!"

He reached for her wrist and squeezed it gently, "I know how you feel now, please, Cee. Come home with me, I promise I'll make it up to you. I swear to God. I love you. I broke it off good with Tracy too. I'm not lying this time. Believe me, please. I love you."

Celia was taken aback once again by Ian Howe's sincerity. How much she hoped he was being truthful! "Ian, I can't always forgive you so easily…"

"You can, Cee." He cooed, his thumb stroking the back of her hand.

She was melting under his touch. _Shit._

"Is there something wrong?" Dolly strutted into the room, seeing Celia's eyes watery and her husband holding her by the hand.

"I believe that has nothing to do with you." Ian said, without even looking at Dolly.

Dolly sighed, "Well, I'm afraid it does because Celia is my friend and colleague."

"She's coming home with me." Ian stated, sternly.

"Not until you apologize to her," Dolly raised her eyebrows, "Right, Celia?"

"Umm." Celia stared at her shoes, "Yeah?" She was already feeling giddy from Ian's previous words.

"I apologized to her already, haven't I, Celia?" He asked her.

"Mhmm."She nodded, sniffling a little.

"Well then," Dolly shook her head, "Are you ready to forgive him, Celia?"

"I believe so, yes." She nodded, "Thanks, Dolly. I promise I won't be as naive now."

"Yeah, yeah." Dolly waved her hand in the air lazily, walking out the room in a swagger.

"Can you say that again though, Ian?" She pleaded, kneeling down beside the bed, so their faces were on the same level.

"What--Oh, I love you." He chuckled, "Very much, Miss Celia Vanderbilt. Or shall I say Mrs. Celia Howe?" She giggled, leaning forward. Their lips touched and melted into one another.

Breaking up their make-out session, she stood up, "Let's finish this at home."

"But it's an one hour drive!" Ian practically whined.

"Well, I promise you, it will be worth it." She winked, pulling him up from the bed.

"Fine, fine."

* * *

Saying goodbye and thanks to Dolly and Marge once again, Celia and Ian drove back home.

"Can we do it now, then?" Ian was actually pleading like a child asking for a lollipop. He was ready to tear his shirt off.

"Not so fast." Celia cooed, pressing a finger against his lips, "You came to take me home just so you can have sex with me?"

"Well, partially." He admitted, licking her fingertip, "But mainly because I missed you."

She removed her finger and giggled, "That's not a bad answer at all, love."

His hand reached to grab her waist but she wiggled away, "Again, not so fast. We're doing something different."

She gently shoved him down on the sofa, "Sit still or you won't get what you want."

He nodded, curious of what his wife was going to do.

She first unbuttoned two buttons on her 'maid' uniform shirt, showing a little bit of her skin. Then two others, until her bra was fully exposed in his view. He inhaled sharply.

She smirked, taking off her shirt, running her own hand from her waist to her abdomen, then the middle of her bra up to her neck, tossing her hair and letting out a little moan.

"Christ." Ian was taken aback at the pleasant scene in front of him.

Celia then took off her skirt, so now she was only in her bra, panties and stockings.

"Am I turning you on, Mister Howe?" She asked seductively, rolling her stockings down to her ankles, her hands touching her own inner thighs. She knew he was enjoying her little strip tease.

He gulped, "Yes, indeed. Continue, please."

Her fingers traveled up closer to the middle of her own legs and moaned again, feeling herself getting wet. "Ah, god, Ian. I'm so wet."

His body practically jerked up from the sofa, seeing his own wife pleasuring herself. She had never done anything so _outrageous _and out of character before. And he liked it.

"Should I help you with that?" He offered.

"Not yet," She giggled softly, stopping her actions. She carefully stepped out of her stockings and heels, now only in her undergarments.

She put her palm over his bulged pants and playfully rubbed his erection, "Did Tracy try this with you, hm?"

He shook his head, "No, no. Damn it, Celia. Stop talking about her. And stop being such a tease."

"Fine." She pouted, unzipping his pants and pulling down his boxers, exposing his throbbing member. Her right hand wrapped itself around him, moving up and down, making him curse out loud. She clucked her tongue at his words, removing her hand.

"Fuck." He groaned. She then sat on his lap, having him completely entering her. She tossed her hair back and moaned at the raw sensation. He placed his lips over her neck, planting wet kisses. Grasping both his hands on her waist, he started to move her up and down, increasing the pleasure waves sent to both their bodies.

"Oh, Ian…my god…" She licked her lips, feeling him inside her deep, once and again.

"Damn it, Cee." He pumped himself into her, "You're so wet, so tight, so sweet…"

She closed her eyes, which were rolling back in enjoyment.

To her dismay, he exited her and got up from the sofa, carrying her to the bedroom and placing her onto the bed. He then continued to pump in and out of her in rhythm.

"Ian, please," She begged.

"Please what?" He asked.

"Harder, faster…" She panted, her nails clawing into his back as he fucked her.

"As you wish, love." He kissed her deeply, his tongue probing hers, his hands squeezing her soft breasts, causing her to moan into his mouth.

He suddenly rolled her over, so she was on top. She moaned loudly as his cock slid into her pussy even deeper than ever. They had actually never tried this position, so this was a huge turn-on for the both of them.

"Ian, I---" She shook her head, uncertainly.

"Ride me, Celia." He grunted, guiding her by lifting his hips up and down off the bed.

"Mm, ah…" She began to move up and down, grinding her hips to meet his.

His hands moved up to her waist again, grabbing them and slamming her up and down, jamming himself deeply into her.

Her moans became raspy cries and his groans became grunts.

"Ian, oh god, Ian, please!" She was practically screaming, "I'm coming, I can't---"

"Come with me," He grunted, "Look at me when you cum."

"Ian, I--" She bit her lip but her scream of ecstasy escaped from her lips anyways.

The both of their bodies shook and shuddered. They had reached their orgasms together and he released into her.

He watched her in astonishment; she was so fucking sexy while she came! Her lips were slightly apart, her eyes were locked to his but a bit misty. She was breathing heavily, her breasts moving as she inhaled and exhaled. He knew that she was his, she was his forever.

He sat up, kissing her once again, "I love you. That was amazing."

She panted, smiling, "I…love you too." She wasn't entirely 'recovered' from her wave of orgasm. Of course he had to take advantage of this!

"Again?" He asked, smirking.

Before she could answer, he already slammed her down to the bed, making love to her again. Tonight, there's only love and desire.

* * *

Celia was awakened by the trembling beside her naked body. Her eyes were closed, she asked, "Ian, are you alright?"

"…yes." He answered, his voice cracked. She sat up immediately, "Ian, babe?"

He had his back faced towards her, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. She reached over to him, putting a hand on his elbow, her thumb stroking his upper arm, "Is something wrong? Hey." She gently turned him around to face her, a little startled by the fact that he was crying. Tears were rolling angrily down his cheeks.

_Ian Howe was crying._

"Celia, just let me be." He choked, shutting his eyes close.

"Shh, shh." She cooed, lying back down next to him, another arm around his neck, gently caressing his jaw. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong!" He sniffed bitterly, "It's just that…" His voice trailed off and he broke into another session of hysterical tears.

"Shhh." Celia whispered, kissing him on the cheek, the salty taste of tears tickled her tongue. _So that was what tears tasted like._ "Shh."

"Shaw's dead!" He choked out between his sobs.

"Oh my, that's horrible!" She exclaimed, "…when did it happen?"

"The night I got arrested, he was in the church with me…"

"What church?"

"Trinity church…" He then explained the whole incident to his wife, who was all ears and a hundred percent supportive.

"Ian, oh god." She gulped--her eyes watery; since Shaw was an old friend.

"I forced myself not to think about his death…his eyes were so desperate when he fell…and then I dreamt of him tonight---" Ian shook his head, rubbing his temples, "I was a horrible friend."

"No, you're not." She said sternly, cupping her husband's face, "Look, listen, Ian."

He looked into her eyes. Her face only read sympathy and care.

"What happened to Shaw was awful and he shall forever be missed…but you can't blame it on yourself. Although it was your idea to go on the seek the location of treasure…" She sighed, "It was Shaw who made the wrong step, literally. It wasn't you or that Ben guy who pushed him, do you know what I mean?" She tried to cheer him up.

"I freaked out when you left." He confessed, pulling her in for a hug, "Everyone I care for…I can't bear them all leaving me. Don't leave me, Cee."

Tears increased in Celia's eyes as she heard her husband's words, "I will never leave you, I promise." She smiled as she kissed away his tears, "I love you."

Those three words suddenly sounded so comforting to Ian Howe. It was the first time he didn't find it stressful or annoying. He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head above her chest, "I love you too."

* * *

**A/N: I hope you guys liked it! R&R makes me happy.**


	12. Trouble Behind Bars

Author's Note:

Hey guys! Sorry for the late update...

* * *

Three Months Later

Sure, sharing his inner thoughts with Celia was comforting and all, but without going on any sort of treasure hunt for months was driving Ian Howe crazy. His hand itched and everything just felt wrong. He had to do something. Adventures that were always between the thin lines of legality excited him, it was like his addiction. And he needed a dose, the sooner the better. Calculating the possibilities in his mind, he made up his mind and made a few calls. "Victor, pack your bags, we're going to China."

It was a Sunday afternoon and there was a sudden hard knock on the door, which startled Celia, who was humming a song while doing the dishes. Ian was sitting on the sofa, his legs crossed casually, pretending to be extremely interested in a Sudoku puzzle on the newspaper.

"Ian," She called from the kitchen, "Can you please get the door?"

"I'm busy, Cee." He lied.

She groaned, turning off the faucet and hastily wiping her wet hands on her jeans. There was another bang on the door, "Ma'am, please open the door."

"Coming!" She called to the door, grabbing the remote control on the floor and whipping it at Ian, "You lazy lad!" He shot her an innocent glance and looked back at the Sudoku puzzle.

As Celia turned the door knob, Ian quickly put away the newspaper and stood up.

"This is NYPD, ma'am." There were three officers; two men and one woman whom stood at their loft's door, flashing their badges at her.

"Uh, hi?" She bit her lower lip, staring at them dumb folded. Should she offer them some tea?

"We got a report that said you have---"

"Drugs?" She blurted, "No we don't."

"We got an anonymous report that you have illegal luxuries in your house," The officer with a goatee stated.

"Huh?" She cocked her head sideways.

"Property that isn't yours." The female officer explained.

"Oh, no, I don't believe I do." Celia said, sternly.

_Atta girl. _Ian thought, this was going exactly as he planned.

"Do you mind if you look around?" The other police man said. She shrugged, "Sure."

She was really wondering if she should fetch them some tea.

These officials pushed passed her and began examining a vase. Ian was standing in the corner with a smirk on his face, watching the officers amusedly.

"What are you guys doing?" Celia asked. These 'government' people were now taking away her favorite vase---the one Ian bought for her from Turkey on a 'business trip'. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Does this vase belong to you?" An officer asked her.

"Uh, yeah." Celia put her hands on her hips, rolling her eyes, "Or else why would it be in my house?"

"Ma'am, do you understand that this vase is a property of the History Museum of Chicago?" The officer explained, holding up the warrant for her to read. Celia stared at it for a minute and her eyes widened.

"What? Yeah right. If it was, how the hell would it be sitting in my very own--" She rolled her eyes until she realized how serious these officers were. Their faces were stern and emotionless.

"I don't understand…" She began to shake her head, "This vase is mine, it has been for more than weeks now---"

The female officer was dusting the vase, checking for fingerprints. The results came in almost immediately, "We only found one set of fingerprints and hers are all over it."

_Silly, silly Celia._ Ian thought, he had always reminded her to wear gloves while handling antiques.

"You have been charged the crime of theft." The officer cut in concisely.

Helplessly, she shot her eyes towards her husband. Her eyes watered up, her lips quivering, "Ian, why? What the hell?"

"May I have a quick word with my wife, officers?" He stepped in, taking Celia's cold, trembling hand. The officers shrugged and one of them took the vase carefully outside.

"What is going on, Ian?" She sniffled, "That vase is mine. You gave it to me---"

"Shh." He cooed softly, brushing her hair away from her face, "Now listen, do whatever they tell you to and I'll come bail you out as soon as possible."

"Promise?" She asked. She looked like a terrified little bunny. He smiled, "Of course. Now, let them do their work." He gently pushed Celia to the officer.

"You're under arrest, Mrs. Celia Clementine Howe." The female officer stated coldly, grabbing her wrists and pulling them to her back, handcuffing her. She struggled for a mere second but there was nothing she could do. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be held against you in the court of law."

_This is only supposed to happen in movies, why me, in real life?_ Celia thought.

Tears rolled down her cheek as the officers walked her out of their penthouse apartment.

Relieved, Ian Howe smirked and closed the door.

_Obstacle cleared._

Little did he know that the terrified, confused look on Celia's face would begin to haunt him.

* * *

He didn't come bail her out at all.

She was sent to a women's jail.

* * *

Ian Howe was standing next to Tracy Milligan, the both of them wore smiles on their faces. "My boyfriend's crazy psycho wife is in jail now!" Tracy babbled to the paparazzi, "So we're perfectly happy now!" She flashed them a huge diamond ring on her finger, "Oh, and it's Tiffany's!" She blew another kiss to the camera.

"Is it true, Mr. Howe?" A reporter asked, "That you've divorced your wife to finally be together with the true love of your life Tracy?"

"Oh yes, it's true indeed." He flashed the cameras' his famous half-grins, charming the media, "I finally got rid of that annoying girl. She was standing in the way between Tracy and I for the longest time."

"So have you been committing adultery while still being with your wife?" Another reporter asked while flashing away.

He licked his lips and chuckled, "Well, yes. I admit it remorsefully. But now she's gone," he wrapped his arm around Tracy's waist, "This isn't cheating now." Then he bent down and kissed Tracy Milligan passionately on the lips. Then the two of them looked back up to the cameras', and everyone was laughing…the two of them were so happy together, glamorous with camera lights flashing---everyone was laughing at her.

_Crazy psycho wife_

_In jail_

_We're perfectly happy now._

_Divorce_

_True love_

_Tracy_

_Annoying girl_

_Standing in the way_

_Adultery_

_Gone_

_Now_

_Tracy and Ian_

"Ian!" Celia gasped as she sat up from her bed in cold sweat. Tears were streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably as she breathed heavily. She glanced at the pillow next to her and with trembling fingers, she touched it. It was cold, stone cold. It was only another dream of hers. Then she heard footsteps from outside. Gloomily, she sank back into her bed, pretending to be asleep. The nurses were coming.

* * *

"Nightmare again, Mrs. Howe?" Madeline, the kind nurse asked from the other side of the bars. She was on night shifts.

Celia shut her eyes close, wanting to block everything out of her mind.

"Hey, are you alright?" Madeline asked again, patiently.

"Yes, and please leave me alone, Maddie." Celia whispered, rolling to her side, her back towards the nurse.

"Tell me if you don't feel well, I'm more welcome to help you out." Maddie whispered back, leaving.

Help her out? Please. It's not like she was crazy. The prison first thought she was bipolar, then got her a counselor and thought she was lightly depressed and then stated that she was borderline. That was just absurd. She was not at all emotionally unstable. She was just pure furious! How could that bastard husband of hers just abandon her in jail like that?

Anita Wilson(she was put in jail for robbing a jewelry story for a wedding ring her fiancé couldn't afford) whom Celia had befriended in jail had said that Ian would eventually come around and bail her out…like her own fiancé promised.

But that was Anita's unrealistic imagination. She had been in the women's prison since January. It's like what, September now? Celia had lost count. Anita believed that her fiancé, Joseph would come pick her up on Thursday, like he promised. But how many Thursdays have there been?

The poor fellow must have ran away after realizing how determined his fiancée wanted to get married to him!

"You okay, Celia?" Anita asked from the top bunk.

Celia cleared her dry throat, "Uh, yeah. Thanks. Sorry to wake you up."

"Just keep believing he'll come." Her cell mate yawned, "Just like Joseph."

Celia rolled her eyes. She wanted to yell, 'No, don't you understand? Joseph will never come, or neither will Ian! We're going to rot in here to death, in these ugly uniforms!'

Instead, she closed her eyes, trying to fall in the darkness and asleep. Sleep didn't come.

It didn't come for days.

* * *

"Celia Howe?" The guard opened their cell door, "You have a visitor."

She quickly sat up from her bed, "What? Okay."

Was it Ian that stupid bastard?

Anita's face lightened up, "Ohh! Are you excited?"

"I have no idea." She shrugged as she followed the guard out the barred room.

They walked to the visitor's room. At the table sat an unfamiliar face.

She sat down and the guard went to stand at the door, staring at them emotionlessly.

"Hello, uh, Mrs. Howe." The nearly-bald man said in a squeaky voice, pushing up his glasses, "I'm your attorney."

"You better be fucking kidding me." She muttered.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" He asked.

"Nothing." She pursed her lips, "So, Ian sent you here, I guess?"

"Yes." The lawyer nodded, "Now I've been working on your case for a while--"

"When can I get the hell out of here?" She demanded.

"Well, let me see." The lawyer flipped threw his papers, "Ah, seven more months."

"What?" She hissed, "Are you kidding? I didn't even steal the stuff, why am I even here? Where the hell is Ian? He never showed up for conjugal visits either!"

"Mister Howe is incredibly busy---"

"Yeah, sure, busy stealing other treasures!" Celia said sarcastically.

"Ma'am, please." The lawyer stammered, trying to calm her down.

"Why are you stammering? Are you already terrified of me, an innocent woman? How can you even call yourself a lawyer, god!" She exclaimed, rubbing her temples.

He cleared his throat, "Mrs. Howe, please lower your voice." He continued as she obeyed reluctantly by crossing her arms around her chest. "I want to see my husband."

"I'm afraid that's not possible. At this particular time, you see, he's in Japan right now." The nervous lawyer explained.

"Huh, I bet." She rolled her eyes.

"Ma'am, seven months, that's all." The lawyer stood up, picking up his briefcase. "Have a good day."

"Hey!" She protested, but he ignored her. "For a lawyer, you suck!" She yelled after him.

She was walked back to her cell by the guard and sighed, climbing back into bed, curling up in a ball under the sheets.

"Celia." Anita called softly from the top bunk, "Was it your husband?"

"No, it was nobody." She mumbled.

* * *

A few days later, when Anita and Celia were chatting on the bottom bunk, a guard entered their cell. The two of them blinked at the guard innocently. They were just talking about Prada shoes! "Howe," The guard tossed a hemp bag onto her lap, "Start packing."

"What?" Celia asked, staring at the bag, "Why?"

"You're free to go." The guard said in a monotonous voice.

"How? My lawyer said I had seven more months---"

"Parole."

* * *

**A/N: I also have to apologize for this crappy chapter. It had to be put in so that the story can flow later on. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	13. Christmas Drama

Author's Note:

Hi all. I'm sorry for the very long wait for this update. I'd like to thank those who reviewed.

Here is a slightly longer chapter. This is the longest smut scene I have ever written…hope you all can bear it!

* * *

Ian yawned, his eyes opening slowly. It was Christmas morning. And it sure didn't feel nice to be alone. It's the holidays…he dreamt of Celia last night, again. For like, the twentieth time.

"Celia." He groaned, unconsciously, sitting up from the bed.

"Miss me?" His wife's voice came from the doorway. Was he dreaming? He rubbed his eyes. She was standing there, her once silky black hair was messy, she had baggy bloodshot eyes, her face was paler than ever and she was even skinnier. The wrath in her eyes made him twitch in guilt. "You're not dreaming, Ian." Her voice was raspy but tired, "I'm here."

"I know." He said, reaching his hand out to her, "You're back."

"I'm here to send my holiday greetings." She said, walking towards him, a bright red stocking in her hand, "I brought a present for you."

He took the stocking from her. And she pulled out a gun from it. Now it was pointing at him, the gun loaded.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Ian held his hand, "We can talk about this, now, Celia."

"What is there to talk about?" She snapped, pushing him back to the bed with the tip of her gun, crawling up to him, "You know, I never thought of you as so heartless. Leaving me there, it was Hell, you know that? The nurses there thought I was crazy. Like, love-crazed."

"Aren't you?" He asked, biting his tongue after realizing what he said might cause her to pull the trigger.

"Me? No, no. I'm not crazy." She shook her head, not a smile on her face, "I'm just…pissed." She placed the gun point on the middle of his forehead. She sat on him and she could actually feel him get turned on by their position.

"Always so horny, Ian." She clicked her tongue, "Perhaps I should point the gun…here?" Her free hand traveled to his crotch, which had a bulge beneath his pajama pants now.

He gulped, imagining the pain. He, Ian Howe had never been so intimidated while held at gun point. _And yet so strangely turned on._

"You wouldn't want to do that." He risked everything and said in a raspy voice.

"And why not?" She raised an eyebrow, annoyed that he had the guts to talk back. She was the one in charge here!

"'Cause if you shot me there," His hand bravely touched her delicate neck and looked her straight in the eyes, "You wouldn't be able to have this again."

She frowned, a little confused. Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist and pinned her down on the bed, the gun flying off her hand and landing on the floor.

"Damn it!" She hissed. His grip on her wrist tightened because her legs were kicking madly to get him off of herself. He lowered his head and smiled evilly, "To have…this."

He pressed his lips onto hers and probed his tongue into her mouth. She was protesting, her free hand smacking him on the arm. "Mm-gerroff of me!" She managed to say between his kisses. His other hand didn't even stop her, instead, it traveled down her jeans and unzipped it. Her legs were now kicking like crazy.

"Gerroffme, youbastar---" She gasped when his finger touched the damp spot on her cotton panties. He grinned wickedly, circling his finger now.

"Ahh…" Celia accidently let a sensual moan slip from her lips. She wanted to bite his tongue off, but he was so---her body jerked up suddenly and thrust itself towards his finger. She shut her eyes close: no, no! She had been planning this revenge for days! Her body can't just betray her right now! But his hand was magical…then one of his fingers slipped under her panties, now teasing her wet flesh.

"Mm, Ian---" She moaned, tossing her head to the other side of the pillow.

"Look at me." He demanded, "Celia, I want you to look at me while I touch you."

Her mind was screaming. She had to make him stop!

_This devil was outrageous. Plan B, plan B!_

* * *

Her hand managed to reach to the back pocket of her jeans which were half way off her thighs and pulled out a pepper spray and sprayed it all over his face.

"Ah, for fuck's sake!" Ian Howe cussed out loud, "I can't see a fucking thing!"

He let go of her and she slipped past him and grabbed the gun on the floor, "Don't you dare touch me again," She spat.

"But you liked it, Celia." He managed to say. He had tears uncontrollably rolling down his widely shut eyes, "Your body never lies, and I was positively sure you were wet."

"Shut up!" She yelled, pulling up her jeans.

"Yeah, you were very wet, indeed." He continued.

"Don't make me blow your head off, Howe!"

'I'd rather have you blow me.' He thought, but managed to say in a teasing tone, "Well, is it a coincident that we have the same last name, my dear?"

She dropped her gun and marched right up to him and punched him square in the face with her small fist, "You're a jerk."

"But I'm still your jerk husband." He laughed, touching his own chin. To be quite frank, that did hurt.

She let out an almost animalistic scream and leaped on him, pushing him down on the bed, her hands smacking him, punching him…doing everything her mighty little body could do to cause some pain on his body.

"Do you know how betrayed I felt? You promised to bail me out!"

"I wasn't the one stealing stupid vases, why did I have to take the fall!"

Tears trickled down her cheeks and onto his face. His eyes were manageable to open now, even though it still stung.

"I did my best to keep my hopes high in that jail. Do you know how miserable I was? You'll never know, because you are just so goddamned selfish. It's everyone's fault but yours!"

"How dare you even say that you're my husband? I don't even know why I even married you in the first place!"

She kept on crying and yelling at him, all her emotions spilling out. All her rage, all her thoughts she kept in for so long. He just lay there and looked at her sympathetically as she screamed and hit him.

"I hate you!" She yelled, shaking his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as deep as possible, "I hate you, I fucking hate you! Why did you have to do that? I loved you, I did, I loved you, Ian. I really did. I don't understand why you would do that. I don't…I hate you…" Her words became murmurs. "I hate you…I hate that I love you even though when I'm supposed to hate you." She stopped her fists of fury, getting off his bed. Her hands hurt from hitting him. Some of her lilac nail polish chipped off and she had just painted them last night.

She cursed once again, her whole body still shaking in anger.

She pulled off her wedding ring, and threw it at him, "If I can't kill you, I'm still going to divorce you." He was still shocked at her capability of 'violence' and never thought she would have the nerves to actually cock a gun in his face, threatening to take his life. He really crossed the line this time.

"I forgot to, you know, Celia." Ian said, swallowing hardly, his throat was dry.

"Forgot what?" She asked, adjusting her jeans.

"I forgot to go bail you out." He told her, since it was the truth. He was too into getting his penthouse newly done, got himself a new car, enjoying life. But he did kind of miss her, yet never made any actions.

She walked over to the bed and slapped him across the face, "That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Of course you remembered, or else why would you pity me and send a fucking lawyer? He was a useless moron. I got out here on parole."

"I'm sorry." He said, rubbing his pepper-sprayed eyes, managing to sit up.

"Is that all you can say?" She raised her voice in a sarcastic tone, "'Oh, I'm sorry, Celia, that I framed you to go to jail for me for something I did illegally and accidentally forgot that you were in jail?' You ruined my life. I gave up everything for you. My career, my dreams---"

"You didn't even have a career at that time, Cee."

"Stop calling me that and I was about to get a contract deal with the publishing company." She argued with him.

"Well," He threw his hands out in despair, "I'm sorry then, for ruining your life."

Celia snorted, "Please, you should have apologized when you first came back."

"Yes, I'm sorry," He said, emphasizing the 'sorry', "I just couldn't get you out of my mind, I didn't mean any harm, I simply missed you---"

"You certainly didn't miss me when I was in jail for you." Celia crossed her arms in front of her chest, "You don't love me, I'm just one naïve little pawn you could use to manipulate around, well guess what? You can't use me to get what you want now. We are getting a divorce. There is no way you can stop this, not even by seducing me into bed once again."

"That was a good strategy, wasn't it?" He asked, smirking, "Using you was never a reason why I married you, though."

"Oh really?" She sneered, "I married you because I was only interested in your money!"

Her statement suddenly angered him, causing him to get up from the bed and grabbing her by the neck, "Don't say things like that, Celia." He warned.

* * *

"Oh, did I burst through your security bubble?" She teased, "Yes, I don't deny it, you were handsome and rich back then, I adored your Armani suits and your Dunhill ties…I married you because I wanted to live the materialistic life too. I was just a small town girl and you were my ticket to the glamorous world. But you were more than I bargained for, I didn't plan that you would become a criminal."

"God damn it, Celia." He growled, his grip on her delicate neck harsher, "You were just crying and hitting me minutes ago yelling that you loved me."

She let out a weird laugh, "That's called acting, honey."

"So you call this acting as well?" Before she could react, he crushed his lips onto hers, instantly bruising her pouty lips. He tugged her hair and bit her lower lip. Both he and she could taste blood in their mouths, the taste of sulfur strangely aroused him, causing him to run his fingers along her stomach under her thin t-shirt.

He violently pushed her against the bed post. All she could do was whimper, grabbing onto the wooden post, her hair dangling around her face.

"The benefits you get from marrying me…" Ian growled and pulled down her jeans from behind, "Are far more pleasurable than you have planned, are they not, Celia?"

"Don't, Ian." She whined, "I want to go, I don't have anything to do with you now."

"Oh come on," Ian snorted, "I am dying to see what little miss actress's is going to do! Now that I think of it, I haven't taken you from behind, have I?"

"Please, no," Celia shook her head, "You can't, I don't---"

"You will." He hissed, pulling down his pants. His hands grabbed her waist, causing her body to twitch. She bit on her lower lip until it bled.

"Oh come on, you might enjoy it if you let go and be a good girl." He made fun of her and pulled down her panties, touching her flesh warmth.

She gasped at his touch and the cold air, "Don't, Ian, I'm sorry…"

"Too late for that." He smirked, two of his fingers entering her, "You must be a very, very talented actress to be so…wet, even under this situation."

A sob was stuck in her throat, "I didn't…I didn't mean it---"

"Am I turning you on, Mrs. Howe?" He continued to pump his talented fingers in and out of her, causing her to let out a sensual groan.

She hadn't been touched by him for more than half a year…her body was betraying her in the worst way.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" He asked her, carefully, yanking her by the hair so she would turn to look at him.

She glared at him, her fingernails digging into the wooden bed post. She didn't want to tell him the truth. Say no, Goddamn it! She mentally yelled to herself.

"…yes." A small, simple word slipped through her lips and made his curve up.

"Good. Now go lie on the bed." He said, gently. She stared at him, somewhat confused, but still obeyed. Shyly, she lay down, her legs closed, not wanting him to see her naked.

"I've seen everything already." He yawned, crawling up above her, "Now be a dear and take off your t-shirt."

Her fingers trembled, touching the hem of her t-shirt and pulling it up slowly.

"Stop being a tease." He clicked his tongue impatiently, pushing her small hands away and tearing her shirt apart. "There." He smiled satisfied.

She trembled at his unpredictability and the cold air.

"No bra, I see?" He chuckled to himself, his hands took each one of her breasts and gave them firm squeezes.

"Mhm," She moaned, shutting her eyes closed.

"Look at me." He snapped, his fingers now playing with her erect nipples, torturing her in the most sensual way she could imagine. She did not want to admit that she was actually turned on a little by his roughness. Her eyes fluttered open, staring into his cold green ones. "Do you like this, you slut?"

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something but her throat was too dry to speak. She lightly nodded, her hand grasping the bed sheets.

"Answer me when I ask you a question!" He said, angrily.

"I'm sorry." She croaked and her voice cracked, "Yes."

"Yes what?" He demanded stubbornly.

"Yes, I like this." She licked her lips nervously.

"What do you mean by 'this'?" He was teasing with her again.

"I like it…" She closed her eyes in embarrassment, "When you touch me."

Ian Howe could not control himself, he was on the edge of fucking her right now, but the fun wasn't over.

"And?" He asked.

"And what?" She asked him back.

"Say that you're a slut." He told her.

"But I'm not--" She protested. His hands stopped their actions. She groaned and her body arched itself up to him, desperate for his caress.

He smirked that she still had the nerve to talk back to him, "Then what do you call this, Celia?"

"I---" She bit her lip and frowned. She didn't want to say it. She knew she wasn't…

"What, cat got your tongue?" He motioned to get off of the bed.

Scared that he would actually stop, she quickly reached out her arms and grabbed him by the elbow, "I am a slut, I like it when you touch me. I want…" She couln't say it. The plead in her eyes showed him her desperation.

He lowered his body back above hers, his voice softer now, "What do you want, Celia? If you say it right, I can give you anything."

"I want you to make love to me." She squeaked.

His eyebrows furrowed, "I don't like the choice of your words."

"What…what do you want me to say, Ian?" She murmured, looking away.

He had already degraded her enough by his words, making her say things that made her shameless, what else did he want?

"I think you know." His raspy voice whispered into her ear, then he licked her earlobe, nibbling on it and his tongue trailed down to her neck, and her collarbone.

"I don't." Her body was shaking in pleasure.

"Say it right, and you'll have everything." He said, once again.

His hands rubbed her inner thigh, moving up to her pussy, "See, so wet…now just tell me what you want and you will have it."

"I…" She pursed her lips. It felt so good, the temptation and all the touching and his wickedness…it was driving her over the edge, "I want you to fuck me, Ian."

"Bingo." He leaned down to kiss her and immediately entered his throbbing member into her.

"Ahh, god." She moaned into his lips.

"Not god." He smirked, "Me."

"Ian." She panted, her legs wrapping around his waist so he could be completely inside of her, "Please."

"Please what, slut?"

"Fuck me." She said without embarrassment, looking at him straight in the eyes, her desire completely exposed.

"Gladly." He began thrusting in and out of her. Her nails dug into his shoulders but that was the least he needed to worry about.

"You're so tight…kitten." He groaned, his hands cupping her breasts, kissing one of her sensitive spots---just under her right collarbone.

"Oh my god…" She bit her lower lip as he pumped into her with a soothing rhythm.

"Say that you love me." He suddenly demanded, stopping his thrusting, making her whine in anticipation. "Say it!" He urged her.

"I love you, Ian." She said, half-dazed, "Please, I love you."

Her words made him ravage her like crazy. He knew she was aroused by his beastly behavior and he liked her submissive side.

He fastened his thrusting and she threw her arms around his neck, "I love you, Ian, I love you…" She whispered.

A few moments later, she screamed in ecstasy and he groaned in approval, releasing into her. When he was about to talk to her, he found her passed out, her face flushed in pink.

Indeed, that was the best sex they ever had. And the first time he had sex in all these months.

* * *

Celia opened her eyes, groaning, "Where am I?" She then noticed she was in their bedroom, not the cell. She quickly sat up, regretting it instantly; her body was sore like hell. She turned around, seeing Ian sitting on the edge of the bed, smoking a cigarette.

Was she dreaming? Did she even go to jail? Her mind wasn't straight.

"Ian." She said, rather happily. She reached over to touch his bare arm. He spun around, his face emotionless.

She forced a smile, "Are you alright? What happened? I don't remember…"

"You can cut the crap now, Celia." He calmly said, exhaling smoke from his mouth.

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, "What are you talking about? And I told you that you shouldn't smoke anymore!" She snatched the cigarette from his fingers and put it out on the ash tray on the nightstand.

"I applaud you for your dedication of acting." He coldly glared at her, his tone sarcastic.

"Acting?" She asked, dumb folded, "I don't…"

"How much money do you want?" He asked, taking out a checkbook from the drawer.

"For what, that Coach tote bag?" She smiled, "I'll just use Visa, there's no need to use a check."

"You can stop the acting now, Celia." He gritted through his teeth.

"But I don't know what you are talking about." She mumbled at the harshness of his words.

"How much does it cost for one night of sex for you, slut?" He snapped, impatiently.

"What are you saying? I'm your wife, why do you need to pay me to make love to me?" Was he out of his mind? His words were confusing her.

"For fuck's sake, Celia." He bellowed, "Just give me a goddamned price."

"What happened, Ian?" She asked, shocked at his rage.

"Look at yourself and tell me what you don't remember." He sneered, eyeing her naked body up to down.

She looked down, like a five year old being scold at the dinner table for leaving out vegetables on her plate. Then she spotted countless bright red hickeys all over her body and even some bruises. Then the gun on the floor caught her sight. Why was there a gun?

Then the previous events suddenly came flooding back into her mind.

"I…" She looked at him and shook her head, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it when I said about marrying you for your money. I just wanted to make you angry, I didn't mean it."

"Oh really. Now you remember." He snorted, "You really deserve an Oscars."

"Ian, please." She begged.

He ignored her. "Give me a price to get this over with, bitch."

She sat on the bed, staring at him in disbelief.

"No answer?" He shook his head, "You are quite a good fuck, let's say five hundred thousand US dollars. Fair enough?"

He signed the check and handed it to her, "There, take that and your gun and your stupid belongings and get the hell out of my house."

"Ian, what do you think I am?" She asked, her hands trembling as he shoved the check right into her palm, "A whore? Why are you paying me? Why are you---"

"We're divorced now, didn't you say so before we rolled in bed together? So yes, you are a whore and start packing!" He lit another cigarette, completely shunning her.

"I can't believe you." She spat, "You are a fucking bastard." She marched right up to him and tore the check into pieces, throwing it to his face, "I despise you."

"Just get out of my house. You got two hours."

Tears fell down Celia's cheeks angrily, but she swore to herself that she wouldn't cry. She carried out her luggage bags from her walk-in closet and started picking out clothes she thought she would wear more usual. She left many fancy dresses hanging in the closet, she couldn't bring them with her. A little part of her died inside.

Throwing in a few pair of flats and heels to her suitcase, she was about ready. But then she thought of her mug collection. She found a cardboard box and carefully put them in one by one. Then she came across his mug with the playing cards on them. Her fingertips traced the handle of it but decided to leave it behind, letting him keep it.

As a memory of her. He can throw it out if he wanted.

Taping up the box and pulling her luggage to the front door, she took a deep breath and re-entered 'their' bedroom.

"Why aren't you gone yet?" He asked, his back towards her.

"I'm leaving, don't worry." She licked her dry lips, "I just wanted to tell you that I left a couple of dresses behind. You can donate them to a fashion charity, or give them to your girlfriend Tracy. Just a heads up for you. Um, well I guess goodbye. And, uh, Merry Christmas." She waved stupidly at the air.

With her head held up high, luggage and boxes in her hands, she closed the front door. She rested her palm on the door for a split second, "Bye, house." She wanted to cry again.

It wasn't just goodbye to the house. It was the end of her marriage, her relationship with Ian Howe and her pink John Galliano haute couture dress she wore on their first anniversary.

Ian Howe put out his cigarette angrily. She was calmer than he anticipated. He thought she would throw another tantrum and bawl, hitting him again and they might have sex again. But no. And what pissed him off was her mentioning Tracy.

He spotted her wedding ring on the floor, the shine of the princess cut diamond pained his eyes. The '11/11 Together Forever' carved in cursive inside the ring made it even worse. He cursed, kicking it away.

She was smoking a cigarette, pacing around the parking lot, wondering if it would be appropriate if she took the lime green Volkswagon. He bought it, for her. "Fuck it. Fuck him." She flicked the thin cigarette to the floor and stepped on it with her red and black vintage-looking Keds. Yes, she was wearing Keds and not Manolos because they were comfortable and cute. She opened the door to the backseat and stuffed her boxes one by one in the car and got into the driver's seat, buckling her seatbelt with trembling fingers.

She had no idea of where to go; she didn't want to go to Marge's Bed and Breakfast…it was a place where Ian and her shared memories and she didn't want that at all.

She needed a fresh start.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I'm slowly losing interest in this story, or you can say that I'm terribly busy and have to juggle between university applications, another story, school work…etc. I'll do my best to update this story. Reviews really bring me motivation!**


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